Love me.
Where those words came from, she didn’t know. She was not a woman who wanted flowers and sweet words. But she did want a good home where there was love and laughter.
He touched her cheek in a slow caress that ended at her lips. Her skin tingled in his wake, and she pursed her lips to kiss his fingertip.
He smiled.
“Let me guess. Do you want passion in your marriage?”
She scoffed. “I think that is more a man’s desire.”
“That is true.”
“Women want safety. We want joy with a partner and laughter with our children.”
“And what of love?” he asked.
His tone was serious, his question honest, and her heart squeezed to hear the word on his lips. How she wanted to hear him say it in a different way. Instead, she backed another inch away even as she asked an intimate question.
“Was there passion with your wife?”
“God, no. But there is with you. You’ve fought with me, disagreed about everything, and even laughed when Lacy was up a tree.”
“I helped her get down!” she said, her tone defensive.
“You did.” His lips curved in a smile. “She and Minette still ask after you. And…” he looked at her, “I think about you, too. All the time.”
“I think about you,” she admitted. Then she gave a dark chuckle. “I dream about you.”
He nodded. “Ah yes. We were talking about that.” His expression sobered. “What would your mother think about you marrying a Sassenach?”
“She’d hate it. She’d scream, she’d rail. She’d forbid it, for certain. And she’d lock me up if she could.” Sadie grinned. “She couldn’t. Not since I was eight. Maybe even earlier.”
“Hmm,” he said with a nod. “Can you think of your banshee now? What does she look like?”
“What?”
“In your dream, how did the banshee appear?”
“Like a woman in white with blood on her lips. She had sharp teeth and claws and…” Sadie swallowed. “And you are talking about her face, who she was in life?”
“They are supposed to be real women, yes? Dead now, but once alive. Once—”
“Betrayed by someone. A lover, usually.”
He was silent as he looked at her. She knew he wanted her to examine her dream and know the truth of it. But it was so hard!
Fear clutched her, even in memory. In her mind’s eye, she could see him being torn apart. She heard the wail and felt his lifeblood slipping away.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said.
“I know it was just a dream!” she snapped.
“Of course you do,” he soothed. Then he gently pulled her close. She resisted for less than a moment. She loved leaning into his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around her hips.
“It was my mother,” she finally said. She hadn’t realized it until just this moment, but now, in the circle of his arms, she had the safety to look through her memory. She saw what she hadn’t seen before. “My mother—the banshee—tormenting me from the grave.”
“That sounds terrifying.”
