Page 33

He could kiss her. He should kiss her, he thought; grasp the opportunity and give them both what they so clearly craved. Her lips parted as he leaned close, craving to feel the softness of her own?—

The sound of boots crunching grass cut across the field stopped him dead in his tracks and Torrin pulled away from Valora before he even knew what he was doing. When he searched for the intruder with his gaze, he saw a stable hand crossing nearby, leading a gray mare by its reins.

Torrin pushed himself to his feet and Valora sat up, breathless, skin flushed. She didn’t meet his gaze, but then again, neither could he meet hers.

Torrin cleared his throat, suddenly awkward, not knowing what to say. "Let us head back. We should bathe."

"Ye shouldnae bathe with that wound," Valora said. "Ye can have a sponge bath."

With a long-suffering sigh, Torrin said, "Fine, then ye shall bathe. I’ll have the servants draw a bath fer ye."

Before Valora could protest once more, Torrin dusted himself off and began to walk back towards the keep, never once daring to look at her over his shoulder.

Once they were back at the castle, Valora wasted no time before she forced Torrin to sit down in their chambers and remove his shirt while the servants were filling the tub for her bath.

Knowing him, he wouldn’t heed her warnings, but she knew they had to take good care of his wound, otherwise the risk of infection would be too high.

In a brief lull in the room, when the servants had all gone out to fetch different things—more water, drying cloths, firewood—Valora crouched down next to Torrin, her careful fingers prodding at the skin around his wound.

He drew a breath through his teeth, sharp and pained, and Valora paused, looking up at him with hesitation.

“I’m alright,” he assured her. “Only tender.”

“If it hurts too much?—”

“It daesnae,” said Torrin, and though she doubted it was anything but stubbornness, she knew she could at least take advantage of that stubbornness to make sure he truly was alright.

Shuffling a little closer, Valora wiped the wound clean gently, with some warm water and a cloth she had gotten from the servants.

Under her hands, Torrin twitched every now and then in discomfort—or at least that was what Valora thought it was before she saw the outline of him against the fabric of his trews.

Instantly, her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t abandon her task. Instead, she tried to keep her attention focused on the wound, making sure to clean it thoroughly.

But how could she avoid looking at the very thing that she so desperately craved?

If she were honest with herself, she had to admit that she wanted nothing more than for Torrin to touch her, to kiss her again, to take her.

And now, faced with the reality that he wanted it too, she could hardly keep her desire at bay.

When her breath ghosted over his bare skin and Torrin drew in another sharp breath, she had the mad thought to kiss him—and she would have, had the door not opened and a gaggle of servants walked in, preparing her bath for her.

Soon, the copper tub stood in the center of the room, steam rising in languid curls. The fire had been stoked high; the warmth soaked into the stone walls. The windows were open to let the afternoon breeze in, along with the sun.

Valora stood behind the folding screen, hands trembling slightly as she unfastened her bodice. She let the fabric fall, piece by piece, until her skin prickled under the cool air. A single linen wrap kept her modest, but for several moments, she couldn’t bring herself to step out of the screen.

"I’ll leave ye tae it," Torrin called from the other side, and it was then that Valora realized it was then or never.

She stepped out slowly.

Torrin was standing near the hearth, hands clasped behind his back, and when he saw her, he whipped his head around in a valiant attempt to not look.

"Could ye… would ye like tae stay?"

Valora’s voice was small, hesitant as she phrased the question. Slowly, Torrin turned around to face her once more, and she could have sworn there was a slight flush on his cheeks—though it could have been from the heat of the fire and the bath.

"Is that what ye want?" he asked.

Valora nodded in silence. Then, when Torrin made no move to leave, she stepped toward the tub, letting the linen slip down her body.

When she was fully nude, she had to fight the urge to hide herself, her body, from Torrin’s eyes.

When she stepped into the water, it was scalding at first—then soothing.

Her body settled beneath the surface with a long exhale.

Her hair floated around her shoulders like threads of silk.

Torrin hadn’t moved.

"Will ye come closer?" she asked. The mere ask took everything out of her, but she knew that if she wanted this, then she had to ask him for it.

Torrin crossed the room slowly and knelt beside the tub. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he reached out, fingers grazing the water, then her wrist.

"Ye said once," she murmured, "that ye’d only touch me if I asked ye fer it."

He looked up at her, his chest rising and falling slowly as he breathed.

His eyes were like a storm, his lips slightly parted.

The warmth of his breath on her face was another sensation, another stimulus to add to so many others—the water, the metal of the tub, the chill of the air around her, the graze of his fingers on her wrist.

This was it, she told herself. This would change everything between them, and from then on, she would have no excuse to stay away from him.

"I remember."

Her voice was quiet. "Will ye?"

Torrin’s hand slid through the water, his palm resting on her knee. Valora inhaled sharply, that simple, soft touch enough to feel incendiary.

He explored her with reverent curiosity—his fingers gliding across her thigh, up to her stomach, then back down to map the slope of her hip. His hand was large, warm, callused from years of swordplay. When he touched her, though, it was soft, tender—never demanding.

Valora tilted her head back and gasped when he touched her more intimately. His other hand cradled her cheek, his lips pressing to the hollow beneath her ear.

Every inch of her felt awakened.

Torrin’s hand lingered just beneath the water, resting along the curve of Valora’s waist. He hadn’t moved since she asked him to stay; he hadn’t spoken since she’d whispered to him. But the weight of the moment hung thick in the air between them, every breath shared like a secret.

She shifted slightly, water lapping softly against the copper sides of the tub. Her knee brushed his side—barely a touch, but it sent a ripple of tension through both of them.

Torrin swallowed, voice low. "Dae ye still want this?"

She didn’t respond to him; she didn’t have to.

Instead, she reached for him, fingers curling around the front of his shirt.

The fabric was damp from where he’d leaned too close, and she tugged it gently, urging him nearer.

He obeyed, one hand cupping her face, the other still at her waist beneath the water.

Their lips met—tentative only for a single moment before deepening.

The kiss turned slow and urgent, the kind that stole the air from her lungs and replaced it with desire like flames, threatening to burn her from the inside.

Her hand slid up to his shoulder, damp skin meeting warm muscle.

He moved closer, leaning further into the tub without climbing in, his arm now around her back, anchoring her to him.

He kissed her jaw, her temple, the space behind her ear. "Ye’re shaking," he murmured.

"I’m nae cold."

He gave a quiet sound—half-laugh, half-growl—and trailed his fingers slowly across her ribs. Beneath the water, everything was softened, heated, pliant. His touch, though, was deliberate, almost worshipful.

Valora’s breath caught when his hand slid lower beneath the surface, fingers tracing the curve of her hip, then in again, between her thighs.

Never before had she been touched like that.

Never before had she known what it felt like, though she had imagined it—and her imagination hadn’t done the reality any justice.

Her head dropped back with a quiet gasp as he found the places that made her tremble, his lips brushing along her collarbone while his hand moved beneath the water. Torrin’s fingers traced her folds gently, the touch feather-light but not hesitant.

She clutched at his shirt, her forehead pressing to his. "Torrin…"

"I’ve got ye," he whispered, mouth grazing hers again. "I’ve got ye."

The water rocked with her movement as she lifted her hips slightly, trying to draw him in. Torrin groaned low in his throat, but held still.

"I dinnae wish tae take somethin’ from ye that ye’ll regret," he said hoarsely.

Valora blinked, dazed from the warmth bath and from Torrin’s intoxicating touch, her heart hammering in her chest. "Ye’re nae takin’ anythin'. I’m givin’ it."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Torrin seemed too awestruck by her confession to say anything, and so instead, he simply claimed another kiss from her, before he gently helped her out of the tub.

Valora let him lead her, stepping outside, her body dripping water on the floor until he wrapped her in a soft drying cloth, pulling her into his arms.

Slowly, Torrin pulled her towards the bed, and Valora followed him. Her breath hitched when he gently pushed her on the bed, his hands on her shoulders to guide her back onto the covers.

She lay back, hair damp against the pillows, and watched him as he descended upon her.

When he joined her, the world fell away.

She cried out softly as he touched her again, his mouth following his hands, trailing kisses down her throat, her chest, her belly.

Then, he settled between her thighs, his breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh and making her shiver.

Soon, his tongue darted out to taste her, and Valora jumped from the surprise of it, her body not knowing if it wanted to pull back or push closer.

She didn’t have much time to consider it, though, not when he grabbed her hips and stilled her, moving back in to drag the flat of his tongue over her folds.

It was a sensation the likes of which Valora had never even imagined.

Pleasure coursed through her, unstoppable and all-consuming, and she trembled with it, her body yielding to Torrin as he teased her.

When his hand joined his efforts, touching her gently as he circled the tip of his tongue over a particularly sensitive spot, Valora’s back arched off the bed, her body seeking more and more of that sensation.

"Please," she gasped, but even she didn’t know what it was, precisely, she was asking for.

Please dinnae stop. Please touch me more. Please keep goin’.

Torrin licked into her like a starving man, pleasuring her relentlessly, without giving her a single moment to breathe. And the more he touched her, the more that clever tongue pressed into her, drawing pleasure out of her, the closer she got to her climax, her body seeking its release.

When she finally had it, she did so with a cry of Torrin’s name, one to which he responded with a low, rumbling groan.

For a few moments, Valora lay there, dazed and heavy-limbed, still and quiet.

Then, Torrin kissed his way up her body, burying his face in his neck, and she sighed at the tender touch of his lips on the thin skin of her neck.

She let her eyes fall shut, enjoying the moment, and waiting for what was to come next.

But just as Torrin shifted above her, prepared to take the final step, he froze. Valora opened her eyes to find him hovering over her, uncertain.

"Torrin?"

"I cannae," he said, voice raspy and breathless.

She blinked up at him in confusion. "Why?"

"Because I willnae be the man who takes yer virtue without givin’ ye his name."

Valora stared up at him, her eyes wide in shock.

There Torrin was, ready and eager to claim her, but he refused to do so unless they were married.

It was more than she would have expected from many other men—but not from him.

He was a man of morals. She had nothing to worry about when it came to him.

But the truth was that she, too, wanted to marry him. She had made up her mind now. It wasn’t just for political reasons. It wasn’t simply to save Clan Gunn or her sister. It was because she was falling for him, and she was falling for him fast.

"Ye think I dinnae want the same?"

His eyes searched hers as if looking for any signs of hesitation, but Valora knew he would find none. There was no hesitation inside her—only certainty, an absolute knowledge that she wanted it more than anything.

She reached for his hand and placed it over her heart. "I want to marry ye. Ye said I had time tae choose," she whispered. "An’ I’ve chosen. I want ye. All o’ this."

There was a moment of silence in which Valora didn’t know what to make of Torrin’s reaction—or lack thereof.

But then, his walls seemed to come down all at once, revealing the man behind.

Torrin pulled her close, kissed her with everything he had.

There was no more restraint. There was no more uncertainty.

"Then I shall have ye," he said. "As a man has a wife."