She stepped to the side, not away. The move brought her near, close enough that he caught a whiff of lavender in her hair. Heat stirred in his loins, stronger for his refusal. He clenched his teeth.
“Do ye want to leave the room,” she asked softly. “Or send me out of it?”
“I want to say aye,” he said, too quickly. He took a deep breath. “But I suppose ye have words.”
“Aye.” She nodded. “I have many.”
“I am well aware.”
She blinked, surprised by his honesty, then rallied. “Ye implied that carrying yer child makes me a target. Well, guess what? Ye made me one when ye wed me and vanished.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I did what had to be done.”
“Ye say that to justify everything ye did,” she scoffed. “At this point, that defense is nothing but a cloak with holes.”
“It kept ye alive.” He heard the edge in his voice and hated it.
“It also kept me alone. I suppose that doesnae matter, since ye think ye’re protecting me, right?” Her eyes shone as she lifted that stubborn chin again.
Neil had the mad urge to smooth the tight lines at the corners of her mouth with his thumb, to tell her that he had not slept until last night, to ask her to lay the map of his scars next to her hurt and see if they matched.
But he did none of it.
“Ye think I would touch any woman,” he muttered, as if saying it might drain the poison from the point.
“I think yearea man,” she argued. “And men do what they do.”
“Ye have little faith in me,” he concluded.
“I had a husband who never came back,” she said, simple as a bell.
The words landed square in his chest. The heat inside him grew worse, anger warring with frustration. He stepped around the table before sense could call him back. She did not retreat.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
“I am,” she scoffed.
“Ye ken what this is.”
“A bad habit of stopping what ye start?”
His lips quirked into a smile, but it vanished quickly. “I stopped because I must.”
“Ye stopped because ye areafraid,” she countered.
“Of losing control?” He nodded once. “Aye.”
“Ye ever wondered if that is what ye need?” she probed. “Losing control.”
That hit low.
Neil felt his heart harden, a sharp ache he could not will away. Kristen knew it; he could see it in the widening of her eyes, sense it in the catch of her breath. Heat crawled higher under his skin.
“Ye think this is a game, do ye nae?” he rumbled. “Ye forget ye are playing with a man who has starved himself for five years. Ye will lose.”
“I am nae playing,” she said. “I am asking ye to be honest. To beme husband.”
The fire popped, but he did not look away from her. The air hummed with the tension from their kiss, with the fight they held like a rope between them.
