He had protected her with such ease.
She wanted to dismiss it as arrogance, as nothing more than his claim of authority. Yet her heart whispered differently. What woman would not feel safer at the side of a man who could scatter danger with nothing more than his presence?
And there was another truth, the one she loathed to admit even to herself… she found him appealing. The breadth of his shoulders, the dark strength in his eyes, the raw certainty with which he moved through the world. She wished she did not notice, but she did, and it unsettled her more than the men who had just fled.
“Are you well?” Rhodes’s voice cut through her thoughts, a rough edge of concern in it.
He jostled her arm gently and she blinked, realizing she had been staring at him too long, her thoughts laid bare if only he could read them. With a sharp breath, she straightened, forcing composure.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly, though her voice betrayed a faint tremor. “You needn’t hover like a guard dog.”
One corner of his mouth twitched, though he said nothing. His gaze stayed steady on her, and in it she thought she glimpsed more than command, something watchful, something she didn’t quite understand.
Rhodes’s voice broke the silence, low and ruthless. “I’ll have my answer now, or the old woman is sent on her way.”
Just when she thought Rhodes might actually possess a bit of caring, he proved her wrong.
Fawn lifted her chin, annoyed with herself for even considering him appealing, and began walking toward the village, her steps steady, Sprig nestled close in her cloak.
“If you want my answer, then I want something in return. More than Elune’s place among the clan.”
For a moment, Rhodes said nothing, following her with his long strides. His jaw tightened, prepared to argue, but curiosity poked at him. Bloody hell, but the woman could vex him, and yet the more she defied him, the more he found himself drawn to her. Her fire, her stubbornness, the way she met him eye to eye when every other soul in his clan lowered their gaze… it set his blood stirring in a way no battle ever had. And it set a fire in his loins he couldn’t wait to feed.
“And what is it you think to demand of me, lass?” he asked at last.
She glanced at him, green eyes clear and unwavering. “You will not hunt the forest as you have. You take too much, and the beasts grow thin. There are plenty of penned animals to feed your clan. The forest should not be stripped bare.”
His brow furrowed, his lips curving into the faintest edge of a smile. “You’ll wed me if I agree to this?”
“I’ll consider it,” she returned, quickly. “There are other matters we must discuss before I make my final decision.”
Inwardly, she already knew the answer she would give, had to give, but her pride would not let her surrender so easily.
A gust of wind swept down the path, sharp with the bite of coming snow. Fawn shivered despite the cloak pulled close around her.
Rhodes noticed. His hand caught hers, rough warmth enveloping her cold fingers and his tone carried the weight of command. “You’ll wear gloves when you’re out in the cold.”
Fawn huffed, tugging slightly against his hold but finding it firm. “Gloves prove too difficult when tending the animals.”
“They’ll keep your hands from frostbite,” he countered.
“And they’ll keep me from doing what needs done,” she snapped back. “And I am well aware of how to protect against frostbite.”
Their bickering carried between them, sharp but alive, as he guided her toward the keep, Sprig’s head poking from her cloak as though curious which of them would win this skirmish.
“We’ll discuss it further in my solar,” Rhodes said finally, his dark gaze glinting with determination.
Fawn’s lips pressed together, her heart thudding fast, not only from the cold, but from the warmth of his hand wrapped snugly around hers.
CHAPTER 9
The solar was warm with the heat of the roaring hearth, keeping the cold of the thick stone walls at bay. Rhodes closed the heavy door behind them, the sound echoing in the chamber, then turned to face her.
Fawn lifted her chin. “If I wed you, Rhodes, I’ll not become some meek wife bowing to every command. I will not give up who I am.”
His brow arched. “And who are you, then, if not a wife whose duty it is to see to her husband’s needs, tend the keep, and bear him bairns?”
“I am the woman who mends the creatures who others would see starve or suffer,” she fired back. “And I will not forsake them because I wed you. I will continue to tend to them. My cottage also will remain mine to use as needed to treat wounded or sick animals.”
