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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

T he night was heavy with silence, the kind that settled over the land like a shroud.

The night chill seeped into the stone walls of the castle and the dying fire valiantly fought its last battle against it.

Valora lay still beneath the woolen covers, eyes wide open, heart too full for sleep.

The room around her breathed with the hush of slumber, but she could not match it tonight.

The wind stirred faintly at the edges of the shutters, as if calling her. Valora slipped from the bed; there was no point trying to sleep when her mind was racing like this. Her bare feet touched the cold floor with a small flinch, and she gathered her shawl around her shoulders.

Stone gave way to trimmed grass as she passed through a narrow side door near the kitchens and into the open.

The wind caught her hair, tugging a few strands loose, and the stars overhead blinked into clarity.

She stood at the northern edge of the courtyard, where only a few yards from her the walls gave way to the wilderness that surrounded the castle, and let her gaze lift skyward.

The stars had always made her feel small, but in a comforting way. The stretch of sky above her was more than her mind could comprehend—an endless veil, one that seemed to go on forever, all the way back home, where Althea was looking at the very same stars.

She didn’t know how long she spent there in silence, all alone, staring at the night sky.

Soon, the chill began to seep into her bones through her shawl, but she hardly noticed.

Her thoughts were with Althea, with Torrin, thinking about the wedding that was to come and the threat that loomed over them all.

For a long while, she stayed there, plunged in the silence of the night. Eventually, though, a door creaked behind her and heavy footsteps approached, swift and purposeful. She turned slightly, already knowing who was there.

Torrin.

He crossed the ground quickly, his face shadowed with worry. He wore only his trews and his linen shirt, hastily tugged on, and in one hand, he carried a thick wool blanket.

“I woke an’ ye were gone,” he said softly, breath puffing in the chill. “Me heart near stopped.”

“Dinnae fash,” she told him softly, giving him a small smile as he moved close and draped the blanket over her shoulders. “I’m fine.”

“What are ye daein’ out here?” Torrin asked, concern still coloring his tone even though Valora had reassured him she was alright. “It’s freezin’. Ye’ll catch yer death.”

Valora shrugged a shoulder. “I couldnae sleep. I thought I’d come out here an’ look at the stars.”

Torrin sighed, a low, long sound. The silence between them stretched.

“Come,” he said finally, voice lower now, meant only for her. “I ken a place.”

Taking her hand, Torrin began to drag Valora down an overgrown path that led to the west side of the keep.

She followed quietly, leaves and grass and pebbles crunching under their soles as they walked side by side through the sleeping keep, past the old smithy and training yard, toward the barracks.

The roof there was flat, laid with stone and set apart from the main keep.

When they reached the far end of the squat building, Torrin paused in front of a narrow staircase that seemed as safe as a knife’s edge.

“Surely, ye dinnae expect me tae go up there.”

“I’ve got ye,” Torrin promised her, but Valora was not entirely convinced. She looked at the steps with mistrust, eyes narrowing as she tried to gauge whether or not this would be her last night on earth.

“I promise ye,” Torrin continued. “Dae ye think I would ever let anythin’ happen tae ye?”

There was no one in the world Valora trusted more than Torrin. If he promised her that she would be safe, then she believed him.

Taking his hand once more, Valora let Torrin lead her up the rickety stairs to the roof of the barracks.

His other hand laid gently over the small of her back, steadying her, giving her the boost she needed to get to the top.

Then, once she was safely on the roof, he pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed against her back.

Up here, the world opened.

The sea was a distant hush, steady and endless. The land rolled out in darkened folds, hills cloaked in night, leaves whispering in the wind. The darkness only served to make every other sensation that much stronger, heightening her senses.

Torrin pulled her to the edge of the roof, sitting there with his legs dangling over. Valora sat next to him with the blanket clutched close, knees drawn up, strands of hair dancing wild about her face.

“It’s so bonnie up here,” she said at last, her voice barely a whisper above the wind.

“Aye,” he agreed.

She turned toward him then, her expression softer, tired in a way that spoke not of sleep, but of longing. “I wish Althea could see it. I wish she could be here fer our weddin’.”

Torrin didn’t hesitate. “Then I’ll send fer her.”

She blinked at him in surprise, a surge of hope and love swelling within her. She would love nothing more than to have her sister by her side for the wedding, and the mere thought was enough to lift her spirits, but in the end, she realized there was no chance such a thing could ever happen.

“There’s nay time,” she reminded him. “How could she make it here?”

“We can wait,” Torrin suggested. “I’ll hold the wedding ‘til she arrives. Whatever it takes.”

Emotion surged to her throat, caught there like a held breath. It was a tempting offer and one she couldn’t help but consider. She looked away, toward the sea, and then back again. “Nay,” she said, gently but firmly. “We cannae risk it, nae now. Clan Keith is watchin’. Every day matters.”

“But still,” he said, his voice a gentle murmur, “I would postpone the weddin’, if that’s what ye wanted.”

That was what undid her. Not the offer, but the way he gave it: freely. Like it cost him nothing when in reality, it could cost him everything.

She turned fully, reached for his hand, and held it warm and callused in her own.

Under the stars, their lips met softly, in a gentle yet passionate kiss.

Torrin’s hand found her cheek, cradling it tenderly, and ever so slowly, he laid her back against the stone, careful and unhurried.

Her shawl slipped away, replaced by the warmth of his body and the wrap of the thick blanket he had brought.

The cold night air clung to their skin and made every touch a spark, each caress as heated as a flame.

They moved slowly, in rhythm with the wind and the hush of the distant sea.

The blanket fell loose around her shoulders, revealing the pale line of her throat. The night wind danced across her skin, raising gooseflesh that his hands were eager to soothe. He kissed her again, then again—softer, then deeper—until she was breathless.

“Ye’re so bonnie, Valora,” Torrin whispered, his breath ghosting over her heated skin. “I’ve never seen such beauty afore I saw ye.”

Her cheeks heated with the compliment, her core pulsing with need.

She didn’t want to speak—she wanted to act, and so she reached for him, her hand snaking its way past the band of his trews to find his manhood.

He was already hard and aching, and when Valora brushed her fingers over his length, she drew a low groan from him, one that he had to muffle against her throat.

Torrin laid her back upon the smooth stone, the blanket beneath cushioning her from the cold. He hovered over her, brushing his lips along her shoulder, her neck, the curve beneath her ear. Every touch made her breath catch, every sigh a thread pulling him deeper.

They removed their clothes slowly, without hurry. When at last there was nothing between them but warmth and skin, they moved together, writhing in each other’s arms.

Torrin’s lips followed a path down her neck, her chest, stopping over the swell of her breasts.

The heat of his mouth was a shock on her chilled skin, and Valora had to bite back a cry as his tongue circled her nipple, coaxing more pleasure out of her.

He ran his fingers over her breast, down her ribs, the touch so light it was almost ticklish.

Valora knew what was coming when those fingers trailed down her stomach, and her back arched in anticipation, only for Torrin to pause right over her mound, right before he could reach the place she wanted to feel him the most.

She couldn’t help but whine in protest, urging a chuckle out of him. “So impatient,” he chided. “Is this what ye want? Dae ye want me tae touch ye?”

Valora nodded breathlessly, the air catching in her throat.

“Say it, then,” he demanded, not unkindly.

Valora blushed furiously at the command. Instead of giving him what he wanted, though, she only tried to arch her body further, hoping he would give her what she wanted.

But Torrin was relentless. He moved his hand higher, refusing her at the very last moment.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“I want ye tae touch me,” she managed through gritted teeth. “Please, Torrin… dinnae tease.”

Immediately, two of his fingers plunged inside her without warning, and Valora gasped, the pleasure sudden and intense, only heightened by the groan Torrin buried in her neck.

“Ye’re so wet fer me,” he told her, and Valora could have sworn she was feverish by then, her embarrassment too great. “Look at me, look how ye ruin me when ye’re like this.”

Valora dared to sneak a glance and saw how Torrin was straining against his trews.

The sight of it aroused her more than she had ever thought possible and, in a moment of bravery that she didn’t think she had in her, she reached for him once more, pulling his length out of its constraints and bringing her lips to the tip, taking him in her mouth.

Torrin choked around a moan, his hips stuttering for a moment before he managed to control himself.