“I do,” he cut in, resolute, leaving no room for argument. “Elsie, I rode back fearin’ ye were dead. I heard yer scream an’ it near tore me soul in half.”
Her mouth parted, softening slightly, but he didn’t let her speak.
“How could ye be so reckless?” he asked. “How could ye rush intae danger like that? Ye could have sent a guard in yer stead. Ye could have taken a moment tae think!”
“I did think!” Elsie snapped back. “An’ I thought the boy’s mother had no time left, so I acted. You would have done the same.”
“Aye,” he said with a bitter laugh. “But we’re nae the same.”
Elsie’s expression hardened as she glared at Halvard, and he couldn’t help but think a rift was now opening up between them—one that hadn’t been there before and which frightened him more than he would like to admit.
“I may not be a warrior like you, but I can use my head, thank you,” she said. “I cannot be locked away like a child. I won’t be coddled like this.”
“It’s nae coddlin’ ye, lass,” he growled, stepping toward her. “It’s keepin’ ye alive.”
But Elsie only stiffened at that. “I am not helpless.”
“I never said ye were.” His voice cracked like strained timber. “But ye put yerself in danger today.”
“I was trying to help a frightened little boy!”
“An’ ye nearly lost yer life fer it.”
She flinched, deflating as if the air rushed out of her, but only for a breath before her temper flared again. “If I hadn’t gone, and that child had been telling the truth?—”
“But he wasnae, and ye could have gotten killed,” Halvard snapped. “But I might nae have survived losin’ ye.”
The words hit the air before he realized he had spoken them. Elsie froze and so did he, the two of them staring at each other in stunned silence.
Her lips parted on a quiet, stunned inhale. “Halvard…”
He closed his eyes for half a heartbeat.
Nae takin’ it back now.
“I care fer ye,” he said, his voice low, roughened by honesty that felt like tearing open stitches. “More than is wise. More than I should. An’ that means I need ye safe, even if ye think me overbearin’. Even if ye curse me fer it.”
Elsie closed the distance between them, slowly, hesitantly, but in a deliberate manner. Halvard didn’t move; he stood there, watching her, though it still took all of his self-restraint toremain rooted to the spot, to stop himself from stepping back, from retreating.
When Elsie reached him, she pressed a gentle hand to his chest. “You… care for me.”
“Saints above,” he mumbled, his breath failing him, “is that truly a surprise?”
Elsie swallowed, her gaze darting to his mouth, then back to his eyes. “You hide it well.”
“Aye. Because every time ye look at me, I want things I’ve nay right wantin’.”
Her lips parted around a gasp. The space between them crackled, and then she moved, just a fraction—enough that her breath touched his.
And Halvard’s restraint snapped like a frayed rope.
He cupped her face, lowering his mouth to hers in a kiss that was nothing like the frantic one in the forest. This was deeper, hotter. It dragged a sound from her throat—a soft, helpless gasp that made his blood roar. Her hands fisted in his tunic, pulling him closer, and he backed her against the wall, devouring her mouth with a hunger sharpened by fear, by relief, by the thought of almost losing her.
He kissed her until she was trembling, until he was shaking. When they finally tore apart for breath, she whispered against his lips, “Don’t stop.”
His forehead pressed to hers, breath ragged. “Elsie…”
“Please.” Her fingers slipped under the leather at his collar, touching heated skin. “I want this. I want you. Don’t deny me.”
