“I was spying on you,” she squeaked.
His breath huffed out. “Sit up, Kendra. I cannot talk to you like this.”
She pushed up and sat, her gaze on her hands clenched in her lap. Her pale yellow gown was damp, the area around the knees stained bright grass-green.
“Look at me,” he said, unmistakably exasperated. “It’s not like you to hide. Not how I envision you at all.” As she glanced up, he flicked the long, crimped brown periwig hair over his shoulders.
“I came because I was afraid you’d get hurt,” she said.
“What made you think I’d get hurt?” His eyes narrowed, appearing naked without the mask and their usual veil of blond hair. “Do you…care?” he asked slowly.
“Of course I care!” She couldn’t remember ever having been more frightened in her life. “I saw him pull the pistol. He could have had a knife, too.”
“He did.” He drew a long, lethal blade from the man’s coat and dropped both to the grass, moving closer. “But I can handle myself, aye? So long as you don’t show up and interfere.”
“I didn’t—”
“Your very presence broke my concentration. And had he seen you up here…do you imagine he’d be put off by a pack of women?”
“Were it women with guns, I’d hope so!” she shot back.
Blinking, he reached a hand to help her rise. She was surprised to find her knees trembling.
His gaze searched hers. “Do not ever, ever do that again,” he said very quietly. He moved closer, so close his breath whispered over her face. “You could have got me killed.”
Tears sprang to her eyes.
“Never.” She saw a muscle twitch in his jaw. “You understand, aye? Never.”
“Oh, Trick.” Her arms came up and wrapped around his neck, of their own volition, it seemed. She buried her face in his shoulder, chagrined at her tears. For what? A man she barely knew, never mind that they were married? A man who kept secrets and mistresses? A man who lied to her?
None of it made any sense.
“Shh, lassie.” His own arms stole around her and held her tight. “It’s all right. No harm done.” He kissed her hair. “You care, aye?”
“I don’t want you to do it again, Trick. But the children—the children will suffer…”
His grip tightened. “I’ve yet to be hurt—”
“You’ve been lucky. And luck can change.”
“Not luck.” He pulled back and fixed her with a calculated grin. “Talent.”
Having seen that talent demonstrated, she had to offer him a shaky smile.
“Maybe just a few more times,” he said, “and then—”
“There will be enough to invest. And you can stop?”
“Something like that,” he murmured.
His eyes searched hers, their amber depths holding her hostage. Summer sun glinted off the roughness on his unshaven cheeks. Her breath caught as his mouth came down on hers.
Warm and tender, his kiss was both a silent apology for the harsh words and a promise for their future. His tongue traced her lips, then plunged inside. None too solid already, her knees turned to pudding as his mouth demanded a response she seemed helpless to deny him.
When he broke off, her breath came loud and ragged. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Yes, what,leannan?” His smile caught her off guard.
