Page 79 of Snowbound Surrender

She raised herself to prop her head on her hand and look down on him. The angle left her face in shadows and impossible to read. “Punishment for what? Your inability to predict the future?”

His throat had closed up and thickened his voice. “You don’t understand. I was not a good person. My wound?” He tapped his leg. “Do you imagine it was from some heroic act? No. I was fleeing a married woman’s bed—although I did not know she was married—and her husband shot me. Sometimes I wish I had lost my leg. Perhaps if I had sacrificed a part of me, the guilt and shame wouldn’t eat at me. I am no better than your husband.”

He let out a long, gusty sigh. Speaking the truth would drive her away and rightly so. He didn’t deserve her or anyone else. Not even the companionship of his mother and sister.

“You are being as overwrought as one of the heroines in the books Charlotte loves so much.” Although there was sympathy in Eleanor’s voice, there was also a note of impatience. “Should you have been dallying with a married woman? No. But you just admitted you didn’t know she had a husband and a bloodthirsty one at that. My guess is his wife brought many men to her bed and he had had enough. You were unlucky.”

“But it was wrong. I was all but betrothed.”

“You were young, Callum. You made the same poor decisions as any young man. Would you have done the same if the banns had been read? Or if you were married?”

“No! Of course not.”

She put her hand on his cheek. “Then you are nothing like James. Nothing.”

“I want to believe I am a decent person, but I’m not sure if I can.” He had spent the past few years flogging himself like some medieval monk. Perhaps not inflicting physical damage, but damage nonetheless.

“You may feel as though you abandoned your father and Amelia in their time of need, but you are doing the same thing to your mother and sister in the here and now. They miss you. They love you.”

He raised his head. “I am here if they need me. I am not going anywhere. They know this.”

“But you have isolated yourself in this cabin, as cozy as it is.”

They had never discussed it, but he was sure his mother blamed him for leaving her to bear his father’s illness alone. He hadn’t been at his bedside or at the burial. When he’d finally returned home, he’d sworn he could see accusation and shame in her eyes. Had he misread her?

“I don’t know how to make things right.”

Her free hand played in his hair. It was soothing but also arousing. It seemed even the simplest touch could set him burning for her.

She settled back into the crook of his arm, setting her cheek close to his. “Talk to your mother. If you feel you need her forgiveness or absolution, then ask for it. I think you’ll find she will give both freely and happily.”

Silence swirled as he considered her advice. Perhaps he wasn’t the cad he feared, but neither was he a white knight. “A gentleman would have braved the storm to return you to the manor and not absconded to a cabin with you.”

“A lady would have insisted he take her back, but we are not a gentleman and lady together. We are a man and woman.” She hugged him closer and yawned. “If you are so ready to believe in fate, consider what has brought us back to one another in our darkest times.”

Her observation hit him with the force of a well-planted, undefended facer. Was it fate or chance or luck? He wasn’t sure what he believed, but for the first time in a long time, hope shined a light in the hollow place inside of him.

CHAPTER 6

Light leaked through the windows,made brighter by the reflection of the rising sun on the snow. She had been hoping to wake to a continuing blizzard. Feet and feet of snow that would keep them bed bound for days. In the night, they had turned so he was at her back, the hair on his chest rasping against her skin. The room was warm. He must have risen to feed the fire at some point, but she had not awoken.

James had never slept with her. He had visited her bed to do his duty and then left immediately. This intimacy was a revelation. A different sort of pleasure than an orgasm. She wiggled so there wasn’t an inch of space between them. She could feel his cock against her back, hard and long. Did his ardor ever flag?

The only indication he was awake was the slow glide of his hand from her hip upward. It did not stop until his fingers curled around her breast. Her breath hitched. He squeezed the flesh and played with her nipple until her back arched.

“Your breasts are wonderfully sensitive.” His voice was sleep roughened.

She wanted to touch him and tried to turn over, but he stopped her. Instead, he lifted her leg to lie on top of his. Hiscock settled between her legs, the head bumping against the most sensitive part of her.

Her mind was clear of whatever had been in the punch at the festival. She knew what she wanted. She reached down and fit him to her entrance, but his hips canted away.

“Are you sure?” he whispered.

He needed the words, and she gave them to him. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

She braced for him to thrust inside of her, but he didn’t. Instead, he held her close and stroked between her legs. She was already slick with desire from their earlier play, but that wasn’t enough for him. He rubbed until she squirmed and breathy noises came from her throat.

The precipice approached, and she fell without fear or hesitation into pleasure. Still in the throes of her orgasm, he entered her with a slow but firm thrust. She closed her eyes and let out a silent scream. It felt like nothing she had ever experienced. Satisfying and right.