“Of what?”
She blew out a frustrated sigh and closed her eyes for good measure. “I have never handled rejection well, and I handle pity even worse.”
His warm hands closed around hers, and he whispered, “I have neither of those to offer ye.”
Ever so slowly, she opened her eyes and lifted her head, dismayed when she couldn’t read him. He still wasn’t smiling, and his eyes had achieved an amazingly dark storminess. It felt like he was pouring himself into her soul.
“What do you have to offer me?” she whispered, bracing herself for his answer.
“Only myself.”
“But what about your vision, the one you’ve been searching for?”
“I found ye or ye found me. Either way, we are one.”
She dove into his arms, determined to latch onto this strange fairy tale and hold it so tightly it couldn’t break free. He was all she had now, and she dared anyone to try to take him.
Chapter 8
The longer he held Emily, the more Gryffe realized what a damned fool he had been. His one, the woman of his vision, had been in front of him all along, and he had allowed his dislike and distrust of his mother to blind him.
“Forgive me, my precious one,” he whispered. “Forgive me.”
“I am most definitely not needed here,” Nicnevin announced. “I shall be in the kitchens inspecting the maids I sent over from the kingdom.”
Gryffe buried his face in the soft curve of Emily’s neck and filled his lungs with the deliciousness of her scent. “Ye have consumed me like a raging fire. I shouldha known ye were my heart’s wish.”
“Bedelia insisted I had a fated mate. I didn’t believe her,” Emily murmured as she held him tighter. “Now, I know what Jessa meant. All the powerful feelings she described.” Her delicate laugh, like the calming sound of a bubbling stream, shifted her in his arms. “Jessa told me the first realization was so intense it was almost painful. She was right.”
He grazed kisses along her sweet skin. “Aye, ’tis almost painful—the wanting. The need to be whole again.”
She loosened her embrace and leaned back; her smile soft, almost shy. “Mairwen says fated mates’ souls are sometimes separated by those wishing to harm the Highland Veil. They think that if they can keep us apart long enough and make sure we don’t find each other in successive lives, that will cause the Veil to weaken even faster. Maybe that’s how your soul ended up in this reality—or how my soul ended up in mine.”
He cupped her cheek and allowed himself to sink into her gaze. “We found each other now. ’Tis all that matters.”
“You’re no longer afraid to love me?”
The hesitancy in her eyes pulled at his heart. He leaned in and whispered, “I no longer fear anything other than losing ye. I shall love ye through eternity—maybe even longer if I discover a way to do so.” He sealed the vow with the kiss he had longed for ever since the first taste of her lips. The urge to complete their bond, reunite their souls, crackled through him like wildfire.
She clung to him, holding tighter as she hungrily kissed him in return, just as eager to meld their connection, make their union complete.
He lowered her back among the pillows and stretched over her, eager to worship her as she deserved, but everywhere he touched, he felt clothing rather than the perfect silkiness of her skin. “How many feckin’ layers did Inalfi dress ye in?”
She treated him to a sultry, almost purring laugh while fumbling with the belt that wrapped around her waist twice. With a maddening wiggle that nearly undid him, she fought to kick off her boots. “You told her to dress me warmly.”
“Aye, I did at that.” He debated on drawing his dagger and cutting her out of her clothes. Lore, he needed this woman like he had never needed a woman before. He reached down to help her with the straps on her fur lined footwear and came up short. “Ye’re wearing trews under yer skirts?”
She gave him a look that made him want her even more. “You told Inalfi the weather was going to be bad.” She pushed him away and scooted off the bed. “I know this isn’t romantic, but I am about to burst into flames. We need to speed to nakedness and enjoy slow romance later.” Tossing her belt to the floor, she backed up to him while tugging on the laces of the decorative wristlets Inalfi had seen fit to have her wear. “Undo me in the back while I work on the front.”
“Gladly, m’lady.” It was time for the dagger. He drew it from his boot, sliced the lacing, then shoved the heavy velvet gown off her shoulders. “I can bear this no longer.” He tossed the knife aside, ripped off her layers of petticoats, tore away her corset, then rent her chemise in two, and tossed the tatters aside.
She slowly turned, wearing nothing but those damn leather trews. “You are very hard on clothes, you know?”
“Aye, verra hard.” Her breasts were just as perfect as he had known they would be. “The trews, lass. Off with them as I rid myself of these clothes that separate us.”
Eyes smoldering, she kept her gaze locked with his as she unbuttoned the waist, let the trews drop, then kicked them away.
He almost fell to his knees.
