By the time she returned from this battle, if she returned, he would likely have moved on. She had no right to ask him to wait for her, while making the choice she did.
One with which he disagreed.
“I maun rise,” she murmured to him with heavy reluctance. “We have another hard day afore us.”
His eyes opened, magically green in the dim morning light. Many things, he might say. He could once more attempt to dissuade her from her plan, ask her to stay. His words carried much more weight with her now. Being the man he was, he did not ask. Nor did he speak of love.
Ah, and could what had been born between them go by so ordinary a name?
Instead, he requested, “Kiss me.”
She did, putting the whole of her soul into it. He accepted the gift and breathed in deep.
Should she tell him about the curious dream? Confess that in his arms she had slipped off to the place in the past he’d described to the company so well?
Instead she said, “Tonight.”
“Eh?” Curiosity—or was it wonder?—sparked in those incredible eyes, and moved in his face.
“We have—we have a few more days.” She stumbled over the words. “A few more nights. If I ask to ha’ ye again—?”
“Lass, och lass, has there ever been aught I’ve been able to deny ye?”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Katrin was notherself that day, nor anything approaching the self she knew. Though she kept busy with tasks aplenty, both helping with preparations for the Murtray army to move out and providing for the families of the men who would go, a part of her remained in her own chamber with Finlay. Lost in the heat of him, the safe harbor of his arms, the thrill of blending her very being with his. Who would ever imagine such a thing could occur? That she might lose so great a part of herself to any man, and in so doing gain so very much?
She ached all day long to see him. But by accident or design, he kept away from her and her agitation grew along with his absence. Och, but this was the very reason she’d long determined never to fall in love. Who would want to surrender a portion of her well-being and self-determination, subject to whether or not a man was in sight?
Unless that man was Finlay.
His tunes haunted her head all day long—it seemed she’d heard them even when he made love to her. She told herself she would not meet with him again that night—though had she not promised? And then she decided she could not live, possibly could not continue to breathe, if she did not lie with him again.
Somewhere around midday, Reagan came to her. He had been working hard, not with his own men now but with Da’s, trying to get them all armed and in possession of some sort of armor, and looked impatient. He snagged Katrin’s attention in the great hall, where shewas helping to set out a meal, by standing in front of her till she regarded him.
He made a very large barrier.
“Have ye spoken to the harper?” he asked abruptly.
Spoken to him? Aye, she had tumbled words right into his ear. Run her hands all over his body. Had her tongue in his mouth. Felt his eyelashes against her skin as he suckled at her breast. She knew the taste of him. The weight and the heat, inside her.
“Why?” she asked.
Reagan scowled. “Somewhat is not right.”
“No’ right wi’ the harper?” That made her stop what she was doing. “How d’ye mean?”
“I do not know.” Reagan gave himself a shake. “I have seen him here and there all about the settlement today. And I think—”
“What?” Katrin knew Reagan for the consummate warrior, and knew how good his instincts were. If he had noticed something about Finlay…
“Is he gettin’ ready to leave?”
“Leave? Here? Leave Murtray?” She sounded like a madwoman, but those were the last words she wanted to hear. Dread stirred within her, all mixed up with desire. He would not. Had Finlay not promised to be with her again tonight?
Had he? Had he actually promised?
Ah, perhaps he was still annoyed with her for saying she meant to accompany her father off to fight—though ’twas she, in truth, who should be annoyed. She needed to see him, talk to him.
