Her gaze wandered around the cottage, over the rafters where the doves perched and where bunches of dried herbs hung, to the dark corner where the owl sat blinking solemnly, to Ash curled on his blanket close to the hearth, and Rook shifting in his nest. Her heart tightened.
“I will miss this,” she whispered, her voice low, the wooden spoon tight in her hand. “The quiet, the forest, and my forest friends. I wonder if I can thrive in stone walls the way I dobeneath trees.” She gave the stew one last stir and shook her head. “But if I’m to make my home in the keep, then so will all of you. We’ll find a way to remain together.”
The words had barely left her lips when the door burst open with a crash, wind and snow rushing in.
Rhodes filled the threshold, his cloak snow-covered as well as his hair, the storm raging at his back. His dark eyes locked on hers, fierce and burning.
“You dare disobey me, wife?” he demanded, his voice carrying the force of the storm itself.
Rhodes strode inside, slamming the door against the cold. Snow scattered across the earthen floor, melting in sharp droplets. Hi jaw was set hard as stone as snow quickly melted off his cloak and hair.
“Enough of this, Fawn,” he commanded, his voice taut with fury.
She set the spoon against the pot’s rim and faced him squarely. His anger radiated like heat from a forge, but beneath it she caught the flicker of something else. Relief. He had found her safe, whole, untouched by the storm or whatever else the forest might hold.
He would never say it. He would never show it. But she knew.
“I commanded you to the keep,” he snapped. “And where do I find you? Here, hiding away like a willful child.” His eyes swept the cottage, the animals watching silently from their corners, before snapping back to her. “You’ll not defy me again.”
Fawn crossed her arms, fire sparking in her eyes. “I’m no child, and you’ll not dictate to me as if I am one. This is my home, Rhodes. These creatures depend on me. I won’t abandon them because you cannot abide the thought of me beyond your sight.”
His hand clenched at his side. “Bloody hell, woman, do you think I fear for myself? You belong in the keep because you are my wife. And because…” He bit off the words, his jaw flexing.
Fawn tilted her head, her voice soft but sharp. “Because you worried when you didn’t find me there?”
His eyes burned hotter, but he said nothing. His silence was answer enough.
Fawn took a step closer, her chin lifting. “You think keeping me caged in stone walls will keep me safe? Wolves don’t frighten me, Rhodes. Men with blades don’t frighten me. What frightens me is losing who I am.” She gestured around the cottage. “This is who I am. And if you want me for a wife, you take all of me.”
His gaze followed her gesture, his mouth hard, his jaw set tight. “I’ll not have my wife known as some wild thing who keeps beasts closer than people.”
“Then perhaps you should not have wed me,” she fired back, her green eyes blazing. “But you did. You bound me to you, Rhodes, and I will not bow my head like some meek wife. I’ll live true to myself or not at all.”
The silence between them crackled. The fire popped in the hearth, snow hissed against the door.
Rhodes’s breath came heavy, the muscle in his jaw ticking. “Damn it, wife, you drive me past reason.” He reached for her then, his hand gripping her arm, not harsh but firm, pulling her closer until the storm in his eyes filled her vision.
She should have pulled back. Instead, her pulse leapt, her breath tangled, and her voice caught low in her throat. “And you drive me to fury.”
Their words hung between them, taut as a bowstring… until he bent his head and captured her mouth. His kiss was rough with frustration, fierce with something deeper he refused to consider.
Fawn gasped against him, her hands pressed against his chest but not to push him away. He was, after all, now her husband. She let her hand linger there, feeling the muscles beneath his shirt and the strength that rippled through it.
The kiss deepened, the taste of him stirring something hot and dangerous in her, something that frightened her more than what the storm outside could leave in its wake.
His breath was ragged when he at last tore his mouth off hers and his hand still cupped her jaw. His thumb brushed the flushed heat of her cheek, his dark gaze lingering on her face.
“And where does that leave us, wife? Always battling with words because you are so tenacious?”
A surprised laugh escaped her, light in the midst of the storm. “Me? Stubborn? You’ve just described yourself.”
His mouth curved faintly, the hint of a smile breaking through his scowl. “So, we are well matched, then.”
“Or doomed,” she teased, though her voice held an unexpected softness.
The fire in his eyes gentled, though it did not fade. “A stubborn wife I can manage. A stubborn wife I may even… admire.”
The word hung between them, heavier than it should have been. Rhodes felt it settle deep in his chest, an unwelcome truth stirring.
