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Lachlan pinched some meat between his fingers. As he ate, his gaze drifted up to Tarley’s face once more, enamored with it.

She’d kissed him back.

She hadn’t slapped him, hadn’t been angry. Her hands had grasped hold of his shoulders. She’d relaxed against him, let his tongue mingle with hers, had equally participated. Her body had hit his. Her touch had taken his measure. Worried. Concerned.

Now, his heart hopped up before diving toward his stomach with his distracted thoughts about the night. Their fight. Wanting to kiss her then, fighting over fish. Touching her, claiming her, having her in his lap, of his hands on her ribs, her hips, her lips against his.

His racing heart wouldn’t stop, offering a familiar rhythm he understood in an old way but felt entirely new.

She’d kissed him back.

When she’d ended the kiss, she’d stopped with a wide-eyed look, shocked, as she’d pressed her fingertips to her lips and looked at him.

He hadn’t apologized for kissing her. He’d wanted to do it for days.

He glanced at her once more. He wanted to do it again.

Though they were sitting at the fire sharing the fish, they weren’t talking about the one thing that he knew he was thinking about that wasn’t Gan. The kiss. His ribs might be smarting inside his chest with each breath, but it wasn’t because of a broken rib. There was something between them, but if he’d learned anything about Tarley, he knew if he was too forward, she’d run.

He tried to wrangle his mind to focus on something else, and said, “He said he came from a village. Which one?”

“Sevens. It’s the only one close enough.”

“Do you know the woman he was talking about?”

She held out the fish but wouldn’t look at him, and he knew.

“You’re the woman?”

Her gaze slid up to meet his. “Does that make you think less of me?”

“For what?”

“Striking a man?”

“If he was treating you half as disrespectful as Gan, he deserved it.”

“He put his hands on me.”

Lachlan’s jaw tensed, and he had the urge to put another beating on Gan to pay for the stranger who’d touched Tarley. “Then he should be in the ground,” he bit out.

“I had to run,” she admitted and swiped a hand down her thigh. “I expected my brother days ago, but now I know why–” She paused. “I hate to cause my family undue worry. It was hard enough–” But she stopped.

“Hard enough to?”

Her eye flashed from the fire to his face, then back. “It was a bit of a battle to get to come out here on my own.”

He could imagine. If Tarley were his–

Lachlan’s brow furrowed at the thought. He shook his head again. She wasn’t his. “Because it’s dangerous?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Everything is dangerous. Everywhere I go.”

“Because you’re a woman?”

She looked at him again. “Because I’m a woman.” She looked down at herself, then back up. “Disguised as a boy.”

“To be fair, though, Tarley, you’ve never looked like a boy.” He offered her a grin.