She’d been angry, determined not to forgive him, but here in the dark, alone save for her thoughts, it was more exhausting and lonely than it was anything else. Blake’s words echoed in her head, along with Finlay’s, and everything else she’d seen, heard, and learned over the past few days.
As the fire died to embers, she finally admitted the truth to herself.
She was weary of being angry, of being alone, of being without Blake’s comfort and his warmth. He’d made his mistakes and apologized for them. He’d helped her when she asked, and tried to do his best for her, even when she’d fought him every step of the way.
He’d even offered her pleasure without demanding anything in return.
She wanted to forgive him, and she wanted more of him. She wanted everything, and she was sick at heart from letting the past come between them.
She rose on silent feet and made her way around the fire. Blake’s breath was deep and even, as if he was still asleep. She leaned closer.
His eyes stayed closed, but his arm rose and pulled her down, into his chest, cuddling her close. Curled against his chest, she could hear the steady, comforting thump of his heart, and the warmth of him.
She also felt it when his body began to harden in response to her presence, and their closeness. She knew he could feel that she felt it, but he didn’t do anything, beyond opening his eyes.
Her voice was whisper soft as she spoke. “Did ye truly feed and care fer me braither while he was captive?”
“Aye.”
She bit her lip. “Why? He was an enemy o’ the laird ye’d sworn tae serve. In other circumstances, he might have hurt or even killed ye.”
“Anyone might, on the field o’ battle, and I’ve the scars o’ plenty o’ bands o’ mercenaries and bandits tae prove it. As tae why I cared fer Finlay… I couldnae free him, but I had tae give him what help I could. He’s yer braither.”
She felt tears pricking her eyes at the stark honesty of his answer. “But why would ye care?”
“Because I always cared fer ye, even when I was fool enough tae be the cause o’ yer pain. And I couldnae help but do anything possible tae help ease any hurt ye might suffer. Me heart wouldnae allow otherwise, even if ye hated me fer it.”
She knew he was referring to her anger over the path their flight had taken. She also knew her own response to that.
Reyna reached up and laid one hand across his face. “I understand, and I forgive ye.”
Before he could answer her, she stretched up and pressed the full length of her body against his, eliciting a grunt before she molded her lips to his and kissed him with all the passion that filled her and had driven her to distraction all day.
She felt his body respond, and slid her hand down his chest, slow and sensual the way he’d touched her the night before. Her hand touched the tartan, then drifted lower, until she could cup the growing bulge underneath it. Blake grunted.
She pulled back and looked into his eyes. “I forgive ye, and may the gods help me, but I never stopped loving ye, Blake Sinclair. And now…”
She shifted to whisper directly into his ear. “I want tae have all o’ ye, and all the pleasure yer touch promised me last night.”
Blake groaned. “Reyna... lass, if we start this… I willnae be able tae stop.”
“I dinnae want ye tae.”
His breath was hard, uneven as he panted, arms wrapped around her with firm but still gentle strength. “Ye have tae be sure. It cannae be take it back, if I claim ye. Ye cannae decide ye’re too angered tae remain with me later. If ye come tae me taenight and welcome me, then ye’re mine forever.”
“That’s what I want.”
She kissed him again, her hand between their two bodies and pressed against his hardening manhood. She rubbed gently, and felt his control evaporate like rain on a burning hearth.
With one smooth motion, Blake rolled so that he was crouched over her, his thighs on either side of her hips and his hands to either side of her head. His eyes were dark with lust, the color of open seas and the sky on the edge of nightfall.
He leaned down to kiss her again, firm and demanding and hungry. One hand supported him, as his other tangled in the laces of her bodice and undid them, then dropped to the fastening of her skirt. He dragged the belt free, then sat up.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke. “Sit up, Reyna, and let me see ye.”
She did, and he drew the shirt slowly and sensually over her head, leaving her skin tight with desire and shivering under the kiss of the cold air. Her nipples immediately hardened into sensitive peaks, and the muscles of her belly quivered at the faintest brush of fabric and air.
“Beautiful.” Blake guided her to lie back, her shirt now serving as a makeshift pillow as he caressed her sides. His words soothed some of her fears, but still she shivered as his warm hands smoothed over her belly, to her hips. Then, even slower, he drew the skirt down, the cloth sliding over her the damp lips of her sex and her hips, before gliding down her legs. The feeling made her arch a little in excitement, further stimulated by the brush of her fabric and the cool air as her buttocks were exposed to the air, then laid against the blanket beneath her.
