She returned her gaze to his and searched it, then smiled, wanting to keep things light. “What?”
“Pine for me.”
Why wouldn’t he think she would pine for him? He was mysterious and charming, fit, and a skilled fighter. She was sure many women had pined for him.
“I would never pine for you,” she told him and kept walking. She knew she didn’t sound convincing. She didn’t care.
“Ah, you have cut me to the quick, my lady.”
She smiled, looking up at him, and then they both laughed. “So then,” she asked. “You are staying?”
“Aye,” he answered, bumping his shoulder into hers as they walked. “For as long as you will allow.”
He made her heart do flips and somersaults. She didn’t want to blush or giggle like some smitten milkmaid. She was a reiver for goodness’ sake. It was time she—
“Are you hungry?” His gently lilting voice caressed her. “We could sit.”
She couldn’t help herself from giving in to the urge to look at him again. She fell into the extraordinary depth of his eyes, where shadows masked his purpose. “Do you always carry food with you?”
He nodded. “I’m hungry often.”
She nodded too. “So am I.” She smiled softly and looked away. “Very well, let us sit. There is a small, quiet area just around that bend.” She watched him return to Avalon and retrieve his saddlebag.
He seemed pleased enough, judging by the crinkles at the outer edges of his eyes when he returned to her. She liked when she made him smile, believing that he didn’t do it often. He moved toward the bend and she followed, looking behind her for Galien and finding only Avalon.
“Come,” Torin urged, leading the way.
What was she doing? She knew little about him for certain, save that he could kill more than four members of her family. And also—she thought about his horse—he didn’t trample over flowers, but let them bloom.
They came to the small inlet, tucked away in the trees along the bank. She’d been here before. She knew it was a beautiful place with a private little beach bathed in sunlight that came from the break in the trees. It didn’t have a waterfall, but she thought he would like it.
“’Tis beautiful here,” he told her, his voice filled with awe. He looked around and drank in the vision of dragonflies dancing over the sun-dappled surface of the water, and various colored rocks and boulders woven between tall reeds.
She smiled, happy to have pleased him, though it scared the hell out of her. She couldn’t be falling in love with him. What would her family think? Galien was already angry about the amount of time they spent together.
They removed their cloaks and spread them out on the pebbly sand. Torin sat beside her and unpacked more apples, figs, cheese, dried meat, oatcakes and honey, some carrots that Braya suspected were for Avalon, and more black bread.
Braya couldn’t help but think about how many people she could feed. “You cannot possibly eat all this and look the way—” She nearly swallowed her tongue to stop her words. So? He was fit. Did that mean she had to melt all over him?
He bit off a slice of dried mutton and ate. She broke off a piece of oatcake and dipped it into honey. She closed her eyes and lavished in the sweet ambrosia. Honey was available only to the wealthy. She would eat no more but bring the rest home to her family, along with those apples, figs, and whatever else she could carry.
“What is that brooch?” she asked, narrowing her eyes on the shiny bronze insect pinned to his léine. “A bee?”
“A moth,” he told her. “I wear it every day.”
“Oh? I have not noticed it until now. ’Tis quite unusual. Where did you get it?”
He paused for just a moment and his gaze went to another place, someplace dark and terribly vexing. “I took it from my home as ’twas burning. I suspect ’twas my mother’s.”
Her heart raced, staring into his haunted gaze as it returned to the present.
“Oh,” she said quietly. She didn’t realize she reached out to touch the brooch until he covered her hand with his.
He was protective of it. “What happened…after? Who took care of you, my lord?”
He pulled away, letting go of her hand. “I’m not your lord.”
She’d gone too far. She knew he didn’t like speaking about his past and she had pushed. She was sorry.
She returned to her oatcake and ate, keeping her eyes on the water.
“Braya.” His voice sounded so tormented to her ears that she nearly turned and pulled him into her arms. “I cannot change it.”
