“If we should be discovered—”
“They’ll think ye sleeping after night duty. Ye often do sleep in the mornings.”
“With ye at my side?”
“Ardahl.” She gazed into his eyes, speaking now without words, a second language so magical he heard it with his heart.
If his mam came—well, Mam knew how they felt about each other. Had she not given them an opportunity to be alone? Anyone else…
“Liadan.” He caught her face between his palms. “’Tis a terrible risk.”
“I do not care.”
“If one o’ Cathair’s cronies should be watching us—”
“I do not care!”
“Alanna, ye must.” He did not want to deny her or himself. But they existed on the edge of a knife’s blade. “’Tis dangerous.”
“’Tis dangerous each and every time ye step outside that door,” she told him. “Every time I watch ye walk away from me to go on guard. Take up your sword to fight for the clan once again. Each time ye stand in the dark, prey to Cathair’s blade. Ardahl, Ardahl, gift me this.”
Unable to deny her, he took her hand and led her to her parents’ sleeping place.
Chapter Forty-Three
Liadan lay withher cheek on Ardahl’s bare chest, limp with contentment. How long had they been here this way? She needed to get up and dress herself. Leave the sleeping bench so he might rest after his long night. Go about her day.
But for the life of her, she could not move. Could not deny this precious feeling of stunning rightness. Of completion. Her world falling from chaos to a place she could understand.
All she could hear was Ardahl’s heartbeat. All she knew was him.
She’d unbraided his hair when first they lay down on the bench together. After they’d removed their clothing. Before she’d kissed him all over with a ravenous hunger that shocked her. She wanted the scent of him. The salt and taste of soap on his skin. The pearls of moisture her tongue found when she took him in her mouth.
She’d half wanted to end it there, to steal the wild, transforming taste of him. But she needed him inside her still more.
Now she could feel the softness of his hair beneath her fingers, and the hairs of his chest. Could smell him, a scent both satisfying and arousing.
This man. This one above all others. No man would ever exist for her besides him. Not even if she were born and died a thousand times.
“Liadan?” He cradled her head, but strained beneath her. “We had best—”
“One more moment.”
“Ah, darling—”
Despite the uncertainty, the fear and dread, she smiled. “Call me that again.”
“Darling.Alanna. Love.”
Her breath caught impossibly in her chest. Tipping up her face, she looked at him. He lay on his back like a man slain. Had she killed him? His uncertainty, his doubt? Had she, even though it was he who had pierced her to the very spirit?
“Am I?” His love.
“Ye know that ye are. Now and forever.”
She let out a sigh and put her cheek back against his warm skin.
“But if I am to look after ye—we must arise.”
