He dodged one of Arran’s fierce blows, the kind that would have made his arm go numb up to the shoulder if he’d tried to parry it, and had used a neat little twist of his own blade near thehilt of the other man’s to part Arran from his weapon. He barely had time to turn before James, darting forward—damn, but hewasfast—swung at him. This time, Ciaran caught the blow in a clang of steel on steel, then hooked the crosspiece of the grips together. He used his weight to press against James with all his might until the man either had to step back and acknowledge the win or be knocked flat on his back.
James held a hand wide in a gesture of surrender, a wild grin on his face.
“Yer reputation is well-deserved, Gunn,” he praised through his heaving breath.
Ciaran might have won the bout, but he, too, was gasping for air from the exertion. He was, after all, only halfway healed.
The soldiers around them whistled and cheered, and hell if that didn’t make Ciaran feel good, too; they might have hated him for defeating their leader, but instead, they embraced him as though he was one of them.
But nothing, he found, felt quite as incredible as the moment that he recognized the little golden figure standing out near the edge of the yard. Glee sparkled in her eyes, and she shot him a beaming, glorious smile, as bright as the dawn.
Eilidh had seen his triumph.
Ciaran drew in a breath, and, just for that moment, he remembered what it felt like to be whole.
He should have resisted seeking her out. He’d done well, keeping his distance from her while he’d been convalescing, through the very simple tactic of feigning sleep every time she’d come to see him. Cowardly, perhaps. But it had been effective, especiallysince she was being perpetually trailed by a guard, and she clearly hated to inconvenience her shadow.
Theoretically, it was easy to avoid her now that he was mobile. It was the right thing. The safe thing. The more time he spent around her, the more she became a weakness that Gordon could exploit. The longer he didn’t tell her the truth, the deeper his debt of lies became.
But that smile had healed something in him, like a cautery against a wound, and it hurt as much as it provided relief.
It made him helpless against her.
He told himself he was just wandering, just testing his body’s endurance after his recent injury. But it wasn’t a very good lie, and the falsehood fell entirely away when he heard her voice.
“—and the brave warrior knew the princess as soon as he saw her, and the spell that had been cast so long ago finally flashed into being,” she murmured.
He peeked around the door to see her sitting in the new baby’s nursery, the child’s sleepy face nestled against her breast as the boy’s dark, curious eyes looked at her like he had never seen something so wondrous.
Ciaran could relate to that all too well.
It was good to see her back to her usually cheery self, making up grand stories and playfully narrating them. She hadn’t done that in a while since they had been attacked. Another thing he blamed himself for.
“The warrior had paid dearly for his courage,” she went on, reaching a finger up so that the baby could clutch it in his chubby little hand. “He was harmed, but the princess stayed at his side, bestowing her blessing in the hope that it would return him to her. And it did.”
She punctuated this with a soft kiss to the boy’s forehead.
Christ, but she was irresistible. Ciaran got another one of those flashes where it was all too easy to imagine what animpossible future might look like between them. How easy to pretend that this wastheirbabe that she soothed, that they had found a path forward together? But it could not be.
He took a step forward into the doorway, catching her attention. She looked up sharply, blinking in surprise, but she didn’t interrupt the speedy cadence of her story. Her eyes were luminous, her gaze locked in on his, as she spun the tale for the weary child.
“But the threat was not over,” she continued. “The evil sorcerer still threatened the kingdom, and when he sent his soldiers after the princess, who do ye think was there? Aye, the warrior, of course! He defeated the enemies, countless though they were, and then the princess knew. He was the one to whom Fate had promised her, and the one to whom she had been promised as well.”
The baby rustled slightly in her arms, and Eilidh and Ciaran both looked down to see that he was asleep. Her lips twisted in a small smile as he took another step closer.
“I dinnae ken if that means that I am a fine storyteller or a dismal one,” she admitted.
“Who could resist the lure of the princess?” he asked teasingly. “Or… the Laird’s daughter?”
She flushed at his obvious hint that he knew the basis for her little fairy story.
“Ach, ‘tis an artist’s prerogative to take from real life but then to embellish,” she said, clearly a bit abashed at being caught out. “Ye needn’t think anything?—“
He cut her off with his lips on hers.
It was a true kiss this time—no danger, no distractions. It wasn’t hurried or impatient, though Ciaran did feel ravenous for her. But this was a kiss like the one they might have if they truly had all the time in the world. He was not at all certain that thepang he felt in his chest as her lips met his wasn’t the sensation of his heart cleaving directly in two.
What if? What if he could have this? What if he could have her? What if he could do it all; fight every enemy, earn her trust, atone for his sins? What if he could go to bed every night like this with the taste of her on his lips?
