“There is no shame in it, ye ken?”
“I am not ashamed of anything,” she snapped, then cast an apologetic glance back over her shoulder. “I am not ashamed,” she amended in a softer tone while holding his gaze. “But I regret much.” Her back still to him, she settled down again, once more nestling her head in the crook of her arm.
“We all regret much.” Unable to help himself, he smoothed a wandering tress back in place without even grazing her tunic. “Let me hold ye,” he whispered. “I will do my best to keep yer evils at bay.”
She turned and fixed him with a hard glare. “Go to sleep. I am fine.”
The leeriness in her tone added to the weight of his guilt, the burden he shouldered for rutting her like a beast. It didn’t matter that she had seemed willing enough. Perhaps she had only acted so because she feared a brutal ravaging. How could seduction and charm be believed when the woman was chained? A prisoner with no recourse. He pushed himself upward, knowing he would know no peace until he made this right.
Before he could stand, she caught hold of his arm and stopped him. “Why do you rise?”
“Ye will see.” Words meant nothing. He would show her. If he had read her truths wrongly, once again, they would do battle, and she would be chained again, but this time in a tent by herself. With a fresh candlestick, he went to Tasgall’s corner and sorted through the scattered tools and bits of metal until he found the small curl of iron used to open shackles. He knelt at her feet and removed the irons, then motioned for her hands.
She sat upright but kept her chained hands tucked to her chest. “Why do you do this?”
“Because I am a soft-hearted fool with regrets,” he confessed. He held out his hand. “Yer wrists, m’lady.”
“You areGallóglaigh, yes?”
“Aye.” When she still didn’t proffer her remaining bonds, he shifted closer and unlocked the latches. The shackles dropped into her lap.
“Why are you not like the others?” she asked with a quizzical tip of her head toward him.
“I am like the others. I battle the same as they.” He knew what she meant. Few understood his edict, which was considered strange and rare among those who called themselves mercenaries. But few had lost their mother and younger sister to such atrocious acts that he and his brothers never spoke of it—not since they had avenged and repaid the horrendous deed. Sometimes, the best way to move forward was to block out the past. He would not speak of it now.
With a satisfied huff, he scooped up the shackles and lobbed them into Tasgall’s corner. The key, he left on the table, then returned to his bed rather than his place at her side. Residual guilt walked with him, but with her freedom done, the burden had lightened considerably.
“You are nothing like the others,” she said as she rose, still rubbing her wrists.
“If you mean to leave,” he advised as he rolled onto his side and faced the wall. “Slip out on the south side of the tent next to the wood. Tasgall and Hendry sleep like the dead on that border. Chances are ye will go unnoticed since the moon isna full.”
The ropes of his makeshift sleeping platform creaked as she settled down next to him, hugged herself tightly against his back, and draped an arm around him. “I will not leave.”
He covered her arm with his, not entirely sure how he felt about that. He might be better off if she did. “You are certain?”
“I am certain.”
Chapter Four
The warmth ofhis back against her cheek both soothed and troubled her as she lay awake, staring into the darkness. The springy curls of his chest hair tickled her palm as she slid her hand higher and fitted her legs into the bend behind his knees. For the first time in her life, she was free to do whatever she willed. All because of him. Before she could catch it, a cold shudder of fearful anticipation shook her. She never thought it would, but gaining what she had hoped for so long terrified her.
Breath held, she prayed she hadn’t awakened him. After pressing a gentle kiss between his shoulder blades, she pressed her forehead atop it to make sure it reached his soul. “Forgive me,” she mouthed, willing him to feel her remorse for using him.
“I canna hear ye, lass,” he said quietly, then shifted with a deep inhale and rubbed his calloused hand up and down her arm.
She toyed with a lie, then cast it aside. No. To this man, this honorable Scottish bear, she would never lie. “I asked for you to forgive me.”
“Forgive ye?”
“Yes.”
“For what?” He rolled to his back while, at the same time, scooping an arm around her. With an endearing huff, he settled her into the dip of his shoulder.
Now she had to explain. She immediately regretted not thinking through all that being honest entailed. “I intended to use you to get what I wanted. In so doing, I have complicated your life.”
“My life was already complicated.” He paused, then chuckled. “And I would be lying if I said that I didna enjoy the way ye used me. Verra much so.”
He hadn’t understood all she meant, but that was all right. There was no way to explain. “I enjoyed it, too,” she admitted instead.
