For moments like this.
She took a bite of cake that oozed with honey. “Gods,” she mumbled. “This is incredible.”
“My Queen.” Connor appeared next to his wife. “We’ve prepared the east roundhouse for you and your companions. There’s clean clothing for you all … as well as water for washing.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed her mouthful of cake and licked her fingers, suddenly aware of how she must look. Filthy. Exhausted. Probably smelling like horse and sweat.
She glanced around the hall at the happy faces, at the feast the people of Crask were preparing for her and her companions.
“Actually,” she said, turning back to Connor, “Could I ask one small thing?”
“Anything, My Queen.”
“Abath?” The word came out hopeful, almost pleading. “An iron tub if you have one. Hot water. And soap.”
Connor flashed her an easy grin. “I’ve already got lads heating the water. Orla insisted.”
Orla appeared beside him, the babe’s tiny fingers grasping at her long braids. “I thought you’d want to wash before the feasting,” she said, her lips curving. “The tub is in your alcove … it should be ready now.”
Lara could have kissed her.
Leaning her head back against the rolled edge of the iron tub, Lara heaved a deep sigh. The water was perfect. Heat seeped into her limbs, soaking away days of grueling travel. The scent of rosemary soap enveloped her. Orla had made it herself. Thesharp, woody scent tickled Lara’s nostrils. Fresh. Like crushed pine needles.
The smell reminded her of Alar.
Lara’s eyes snapped open, her contentment puncturing.
You can’t ignore him forever.
Her pulse fluttered. No, she’d have to acknowledge what lay between them. She’d have to make a decision about the future. Like a coward, she’d told herself it could wait until Crask—but now, they’d arrived. Her time was running out.
And there was no running from this.
Her gaze went to the heavy curtain that shielded her small alcove from the rest of the space. Unlike their last stay at Crask, tonight, each of them had an alcove. Only Skaal would sleep by the hearth.
Alar’s alcove was directly opposite hers. He, like the others, didn’t have a bathtub to soak in. However, Orla had provided everyone with hot water, soap, drying sheets, and the clothes—now freshly laundered—they’d arrived in days earlier.
Picking up the soap, Lara started to wash. The bitter yet clean scent wrapped around her, coating the back of her throat.
Soft feminine laughter intruded then, making her tense.
Cailean and Bree had taken the alcove next to hers. The couple had spent little time alone over the past turn of the moon. Moments of intimacy had been rare. No doubt, they wished to enjoy their privacy; even so, Lara’s brow furrowed.
She understood their eagerness. But when Cailean’s throaty groan filtered through the wall, she stilled. Fingers tightening around the slippery bar of soap.
Irritation bubbled up. Surely, they weren’t going to—
A muffled cry followed, and then another deep male moan.Thick stacked stone divided the alcoves, yet that didn’t stop noise from traveling.
Lara muttered an oath. She wasn’t a prude, but she didn’t need to hear her friends fucking.
“Aye … harder!” Bree whimpered.
Gods.
Squeezing her eyes shut, she slid under the hot water.
37: I WILL NOT YIELD
