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A feeling that she didn’t quite understand punched into her stomach.

She had accepted her bloodline and the responsibility that came with it.

Emara cleared her throat. “I am not ready to fully commit to the alliance or even think about it right now.” She had to be honest with him. “But that is not me shutting it down entirely. I would not dishonour you.”

The longest moment of her entire life passed, and he still didn’t speak. Was he thinking about her words? How had he taken them? Maybe it would be better if she could see his face.

A gentle lilt in his tone clarified that he was done with the seriousness of the conversation. “Are you saying you are warming to the idea of being my wife?”

“No!” she barked, louder than expected, and Artem turned to look at them with a cheesy grin.

“That is not what I am saying” she hissed sharply, only to Torin.

“Has she stabbed you yet?” Artem called from the front.

“Not yet,” Torin confirmed, and Emara could hear the terrible delight on his face without having to see it.

“Not even a swinging elbow?” Artem snorted. “I heard you are rather fond of them, Emara.”

Emara turned as much as she could on the saddle to face Torin. “Do you keep anything to yourself?”

Torin’s ice-blue stare penetrated through her, and it was the first time she had seen it in hours. With the backdrop of snowy-white trees, he was a striking contrast. His glowing, tanned skin, his sharp jaw, and his dark brows, his warmth.

Her heart stopped.Emara quickly turned around again before he could speak.

Yep, he definitely had that infuriating smirk splashed all over his stupid face.

“I keep a lot of things to myself.” He chuckled, and that deep laugh warmed her broken heart a little. “But there are some things I struggle to keep to myself.”

“Really?” A cynical laugh escaped her.

“Shall I let you in on a little secret? We do like to keep a few of those between us.”

“I hardly think we have a few, but carry on.”

The pulse was back in her neck.

“I really struggled last night.”

“With what?” She swallowed, knowing directly where this conversation was about to lead.

Her stomach flipped.

“I struggled to keep my thoughts of you…pure.”

“Mhmmm,” she hummed, feeling that familiar heat working its way back down her spine and into her core.

He leaned in and whispered against her neck, “I struggled keeping my hands to myself with you in that wine-coloured dress. It took my mind to unthinkable places.”

Oh. “It wasn’t that sensual,” she tutted, trying not to think about what his thoughts had conjured.

“Trust me,” he fired out quickly, “it was a very mischievous little garment. And I dare say it has been my favourite yet.”

The whispers of what he’d promised to her last night, the sounds of his want, his eyes stripping her bare, all came flooding back. She pushed her knees into the side of the saddle, praying it would help take the edge off.

He chuckled as if knowing exactly how her memories had affected her.

Maddened by his self-confidence, she decided to play a little game of her own. “If we are both going to be revealing our secrets on this ride,” she said, her voice low, “maybe I have a little one of my own.”