“We could have heated a tub of water. You didn’t have to do this,” he chided, lifting her out of the water. When the cold outside air hit her skin, she started trembling even more. Trahern wrapped her in the longbrat, but the woolen wrap did little to warm her icy skin. Only Trahern’s body heat made it bearable.
“I didn’t think it was that bad,” she admitted. “You took a swim and didn’t seem affected.”
“I’m larger than you, and the water isn’t as cold against my skin.”
Trahern carried her back to the cashel, his long strides crossing the grass without any effort. Morren clung to him tightly, as if trying to absorb the heat of his skin into her own.
Trahern was nearly at the gates when suddenly he stopped. He let her down, and her knees nearly buckled.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gone into the water.” She held tightly to her shoulders, shivering. But it wasn’t just the cold that made her shiver.
It was the dark look in his eyes, the look of a man who wanted her. He was giving her the chance to walk away, and she knew without a doubt, that he wouldn’t lay a hand upon her.
But his restraint was taking a toll. His gaze was smoldering, like a fire that began upon her skin, working its way over her breasts, down to her thighs. Her nipples tightened beneath the wet wool of her gown, and Morren flinched as something unexpected began to warm between her legs.
Desire. Something about Trahern MacEgan was stirring up buried feelings she’d never expected to feel. Perhaps she wasn’t quite as broken as she’d thought.
Right now, she wanted to move back into the circle of his arms. She wanted him to warm her up, to make her feel safe. Because she knew he would never, ever hurt her.
“I’m sorry,” Trahern murmured, taking a step closer. His head gleamed with water, his skin pale from the cold. But as soon as he was within a hand’s distance, she found herself staring at the prickles of hair upon his cheeks, the unyielding strength in his arms.
“Sorry for what?” Her voice didn’t break a whisper, and her breath seemed trapped within her lungs.
“For this.” Trahern captured the back of her neck and pulled her into a hard kiss.
Chapter Twelve
Needandprimalhungerrushed through Trahern as he captured her lips. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and he knew on the deepest level that this was wrong. But she was so damned beautiful, and seeing her smile had made it impossible to ignore the desire he was feeling.
He expected her to shove him away. Right now, his guilt roared at him not to do this. He was behaving as badly as the raiders who’d attacked her.
But feeling her mouth against his and the soft way her arms wound around his neck . . . it was like a balm upon his spirit. Her body fit against him, and she was kissing him back.
Her freezing skin had begun to warm, and he held her tightly against him. At last, his common sense won over, and he ended the kiss.
She was staring at him, her blue eyes mirroring his own desire. But there was fear beneath it, and shame. She held herself tightly, rubbing her arms.
“Trahern—“
“Don’t. I lost sight of myself for a moment.” He raked a hand over his head, feeling like a criminal. Not at all sorry that he’d broken the rules but sorry for the consequences.
“I’ll walk you back. Perhaps Katla will have some dry clothes, and you can sit by the fire to get warmer.”
Her teeth chattered as they continued walking alongside one another. Trahern was grateful that he had to carry the bundled grain back from the barley field, for it kept his hands occupied.
He wanted to wrap Morren up in a blanket, letting his body heat warm her skin. In his mind, he imagined them near a fire, with her naked body lying atop his. He’d caress the curve of her hip and her smooth skin. Tendrils of anger snaked through his mind as he thought of how he was betraying Ciara with those very thoughts.
“You’re looking as though you want to set the cashel on fire again,” Morren remarked, glancing at him. “What’s the matter?”
Everything. I’m a bastard who needs to go and soak his head.But he answered, “Nothing. I’m just cold.”
She nodded, pulling her wet clothes tighter against her body. “I’m dreaming of that fire right now. But none of us has any extra clothing, and I know the chief hasn’t sent the supplies yet.”
Yet after they entered the cashel, they discovered Morren was wrong. Supplies were there, but not from theLochlannach. Instead, a group of four monks had arrived from St. Michael’s Abbey. The abbot himself was directing the brothers on how to dispense the food and clothing.
Trahern’s suspicions prickled, though Morren appeared glad to see them. Why had the monks ventured forth now, after the death of the first raider? Had they learned of the man’s demise? He couldn’t quite bring himself to welcome them.
Morren left his side to greet Brother Chrysoganus, and Trahern left to put the grain away with the harvest from the previous day. He returned to the men’s hut, intending to warm himself by the fire. His clothing had turned clammy, and he saw Ciara’s brother Áron taking a drink of ale from one of the skin containers.
