She realized she wanted—needed—to know if it had meant anything to him.
He turned toward her, facing her. The movement closed the distance between them.
She felt her breath quicken as her shoulder brushed against his. She could smell the faint sweetness of brandy on his lips and the clean, damp scent of his skin. A shiver ran through her.
“You are still freezing,” he said, reaching to adjust the blanket.
This time, his hand rested on her shoulder, warm and steady, sending a jolt of heat down her spine.
“Is this allowed?” she whispered, unsure if she was teasing or pleading.
He drew her closer, the movement gentle yet firm. The blanket slipped from her grip, pooling around their waists, and she found herself in his arms.
She expected awkwardness—perhaps an apology or a retreat to propriety—but instead, he bent his head, and she felt his lips brush against her temple. "It is if we wish it."
She closed her eyes, surrendering to the sensation. The next kiss was firmer, placed at the corner of her mouth. She turned toward it, and their lips met—soft and exploratory at first, then hungry.
For a moment, the fire and storm faded, leaving only the press of lips, the rhythm of breath, and heat between them. His hand slipped to her nape, fingers tangling in her damp hair.
Her fingers gripped his forearm, nails digging in, pulling him closer.
She gasped, and he tasted the sound. The kissdeepened, bringing a sense of falling—dangerous yet welcome.
Then, just as suddenly, she pulled away. Her lungs heaved, and she stared at him with a mix of defiance and horror. “I should not have,” she said, her voice trembling. “That was?—”
“Inevitable, necessary even,” he finished for her, his voice raw.
She blinked, confused. “You do not believe in necessity. Only endurance.”
He smiled, unguarded, almost boyish. “Perhaps I am learning.”
She laughed, then covered her mouth, mortified. “Mercy, what must you think of me?”
He regarded her, searching her eyes, then said, “I think you are the bravest woman I have ever met.”
She shook her head. “You do not know half my secrets, Your Grace.”
He raised an eyebrow, inviting her to share, but she did not. Instead, she pulled the blanket up, rested her head on his shoulder, and wondered what would happen if she surrendered completely—not to fate or expectation, but to the force that had brought them together.
