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Arkin jerked as though he’d taken a blow. He compressed his mouth into an outraged line. Clearly he had not expected my husband to come to my defense. Truthfully, neither had I.

Fell continued, sweeping another glare over his warriors, “Or from anyone else. Is that understood? She is mine to deal with.”

Several nods answered. A few “ayes” resounded in the afternoon air.

Mine to deal with.Not exactly the stuff of romantic dreams.

Arkin pursed his lips in silent accord, but agreement did not light his eyes.

“I want a tent waiting when we get back,” Fell added, and then he was moving with me in his arms, covering the ground in long strides.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“To the stream.” He paused and whirled back around as though something had occurred to him. “Mari,” he barked over his shoulder to the sword maiden. She appeared instantly. “Will you please see that there is food ready for us when we return?” He sent me a considering glance. “Something hot and nourishing.”

Her dark gaze shot to me, then quickly back to him... but not before I read her thoughts. She pitied me. It was humiliating. Shethought me weak and broken. I would have preferred her condemnation. “Of course, Fell.”

I wondered at the hint of intimacy I detected in her voice. Were they something to each other? She was beautiful. Was she more than a sword maiden to him? He more than her liege lord? The notion did not sit well. Not that I could do anything about it except feel this awkward sense of inadequacy, this sense that I was an intruder in his life, a wife gained through duplicitous means. I had no claim to him and could not expect to be treated as a true partner deserving of his loyalty.

He carried me through the trees. I looked up at the canopy of whispering leaves. Sunlight streamed in thin ribbons through gaps. I was no dainty woman, but he did not grow the least bit winded. I opened my mouth, wanting to protest that I could walk, but that would not have been true, so I stayed silent, pressing my pulsing palm into his shoulder as if I could burrow my way past garments, to the flesh of him.

I heard the stream before we reached it—the burbling of water over eons-smooth stones. The trees thinned out and cleared enough to reveal a rocky shore. He chose a moss-covered slab that jutted out from the brook, lowering me down onto its verdant, yielding surface.

“Let me see,” he demanded, reaching for my hem.

I slapped at his hand. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

His gaze down there—on me—would be my final shame. It would finish me.

“Come now.” He continued reaching for my hem. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve seen beneath your skirts before.”

My face heated all the way to the tips of my ears. “This is not the same.”

“No. It’s not,” he agreed succinctly. “We are alone. And I’m trying to help you. This isn’t the kind of thing you can do for yourself.” His expression darkened. “If you had told me sooner, I could have offered you relief.”

I slapped at his hand again. “Indeed? It’s not as though you havebeen the most approachable,” I snapped. “And you warned me that weakness would not be tolerated, that I must learn this way of life. Why should I have said anything to you at all?”

We stared at each other, both breathing hard, gazes locked, and more than my hand was humming now. My chest fairly purred, buzzing and pulling and tightening in that way that made me long to apply pressure there.

Finally he gave a nod and spoke. “Allow me to help you. Please, Tamsyn.”

I blinked slowly at the softening of his voice. It was not a command but a politely worded request. I felt my resolve crack as I gazed at his striking face. He was my husband. It was an incontrovertible fact. I was in pain. Another incontrovertible fact. If he could help me, I should permit him.

I relaxed my grip on the hem of my riding skirt and dragged the fabric up my legs, the breath seething out of me slowly, expanding my nostrils. I leaned back rigidly, exposing my limbs inch by inch to the day... to his sharp eyes.

We were far enough north now to really feel the nip of impending winter, and yet presently I felt flushed, the warmth in my chest spiraling throughout my body, heating up the blood in my veins. My face burned hot, and still I kept tugging the fabric past my hips.

He lowered his eyes and reached for the bottom of my shift, the final barrier to my modesty. His fingertips brushed the insides of my knees, and I flinched. His hands settled there, his palms covering the rounded bends, and I whimpered at the throb of his palm where we’d been blooded together. It wasnotmy imagination. That X pulsed hotly against my skin.

He felt it, too.

Frowning, he pulled his hand back momentarily. He flexed that big hand and gave it a little wiggle, working his fingers in the air as if that could rid him of the sensation. Shaking his head, his hand returned to my knees, parting my thighs wide for him. Another moan escaped me at the discomfort, at the pull on my desperatelyunhappy muscles, at the air on my ravaged thighs and vulnerable sex. I swallowed back a whimper, but then it was done.

He could view me now, splayed open as I had not even seen myself. As no one had. This was dispassionate. Of course there was no amorous intent in this. I was certain nothing about this inspired his lust. Only his pity. Perhaps it even inspired his disgust. My fingers dug into the moss-covered rock, fighting for my dignity in such a very undignified position.

He ducked his dark head between my knees and hissed a breath before muttering a curse. The foul word was a steaming puff on my vulnerable skin. “Ah, what have you done to yourself?”What have I done?“Why did you not say anything?”

“I already explained that you were not the most approachable.”