Raphael didn’t want to go out. He certainly didn’t want to leave the bed, but her kin would be sick with worry. No, he wanted to hold her and make certain she was well. He wanted to breathe the faint scent of mountain laurel in her hair, left there by the drooping wreath stuck in her veil.
He pulled it free with gentle, slightly less trembling fingers. He removed her veil and stared at her face like one caught in the beauty of a summer sunrise after a long, dark winter.
“I’ll make some tea,” said the shepherd and left the small room.
Raphael took in the slight slope of her nose, the delectable bow shape of her mouth, the alluring curves of her cheek and jaw. He wanted to kiss her. He ran his palms down her back and then closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to stay strong. She needed his heat. He could hold her without losing his mind…or his heart.
“Elysande, please awaken, lass. I need to find yer father.”
She opened her eyes with a flutter of dark, lush lashes. For one blissful moment, she smiled into his eyes. He knew in that moment that he wanted to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of his life. Then her smile faded.
“Why d’ye need to find him? What…?” She suddenly realized where she was. In his arms, against his bare chest. “What are ye doin’?” She tried to wiggle away from him. He released her, but she fell back when she tried to rise up from the bed.
“Elysande,” he said in a soft voice, “ye were almost dead in the snow, barely breathin’, lass. There is a storm—” He reached for her when she made her second attempt to leave the bed.
“Raphael.” She leaned back in the bed, too weary to get up. “Go find my father. Dinna stay here another instant.” She spoke the words and yet she suddenly clutched at him as if she didn’t want him to go.
“If he finds ye here alone and undressed with me, he will kill ye.”
Raphael nodded. “I am goin’. But I hate to leave ye.”
Her smile softened on him, making his heart palpitate. “How did ye find me, Raphael?”
“I fell over ye.” He laughed at himself, knowing it was the least heroic thing he could say.
She lifted her pale, delicate hand to her mouth and laughed with him. Raphael understood in that moment why her father was so protective of her. Losing her, seeing her hurt in this violent world would drive Raphael mad. He understood.
He wanted to return to her and wrap her in his arms again. He wanted to feel her heartbeat as close as his own. But he had to find her father and let him know that his daughter was alive.
He left her and went to the next room to look for the shepherd who hadn’t returned with the tea. He found Adam in the kitchen still preparing it.
When he heard what Raphael meant to do, Adam gave him more clothes to wear and two extra cloaks beneath his fur one.
Raphael thanked him and returned to bid Elysande farewell. He didn’t want to leave her. He didn’t know if he’d ever see her again. Her father was out there, ready, Raphael was sure, to die finding her. Would things be better for him and Elysande if her father was dead? He could stay here with her and let Cain MacPherson possibly die in the storm.
No. Whatever the outcome, Raphael would find him and give him back his daughter.
He went to her and knelt beside the bed, taking her hand in his. “I want ye to know, Elysande MacPherson, that I love ye. I dinna care if I just met ye, lass. Ye have taken hold of my heart, making it ready to risk everythin’, even my own life fer ye. I love ye. Whatever happens, I want ye to know that.”
He gently swiped a tear from her eye and then held his finger to her mouth. He didn’t want to know her reply. If he died, he wanted to believe she loved him. If she didn’t, he didn’t want to know. He stood up and quietly left the cottage.
And stepped into the howling, white wind.
