James didn’t know how to convince her when he could hardly convince himself of it. After a moment of hesitation, he shifted closer to her so that they were sitting side by side, their arms brushing against each other.
“I cannae blame ye,” he said. “But maybe I can show ye.”
Freya turned to look at him with a curious gaze in her eyes just as James reached for her, cupping her cheek gently. Despite the tension between them, he felt her lean against his palm, accepting the touch with ease.
Perhaps it was a mistake, leaning in to kiss her. Perhaps it would be easier if he simply let this unnamed thing between them dissipate without ever acknowledging it again. It would hurt them both, but they would recover with time.
Yet all he could think about was kissing those rosy lips again. He didn’t want to let Freya go. All his life, he had given everything for his clan—he had fought in battles, he had dedicated his time and his body to its protection, and he had been prepared to endure anything for his people. This one time, he wanted to be selfish.
And so he kissed her. It was a gentle kiss, a simple press of his lips against hers, giving her enough time to pull back if she so wished. Even so, he tried to pour everything he felt for her in it and show her that even if he had changed, nothing between them had.
Not only did Freya not pull back, but she even parted her lips to deepen the kiss. She breathed softly against him, the air between them charged with the intensity of their combined desire. James couldn’t resist grabbing her waist and pulling her close, the need to feel her body pressing against his own so overwhelming that he was almost vibrating right out of his skin.
There was no denying it. He had fallen for her and no excuse was enough to stop his feelings from blossoming more and more with every passing day. There was something special about Freya; he had never met a woman who was at the same time as fierce and as caring and loving as she was. He didn’t think he would ever find another, either.
No matter the hardships they would face, no matter the opinion of his family and the council, James had made up his mind. This was the woman he would wed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“Ilove ye,” James whispered against her lips, and Freya’s breath caught in her throat.
Those three simple words were enough to steal her breath away and give her pause. Pushing James back just enough to look at him, she gazed into his green eyes, stunned into silence.
“I love ye,” James repeated, perhaps sensing her surprise. “Ye’re the only thing that matters tae me, Freya. Ye… ye saved me. Maybe ye’re right that I’ve changed, but if I’ve changed, then it is fer the better. I’ve changed because of ye and I dinnae regret that.”
It was a relief, hearing James admit he had changed. On the one hand, it confirmed her fears, which frightened her. On the other, putting it into words and acknowledging it meant that her fears weren’t unfounded—and if James thought the change was for the better, then Freya was prepared to believe him.
“I love ye,” she told him, unshed tears stinging her eyes. It was the truth, plain and simple. Only a few hours prior, she wouldn’t have admitted it, not even to herself; but now it was easy to speak those words aloud, because she knew James felt the same way. “Forgive me… I ken I’ve been acting strange but I couldnae help it. I?—”
“I understand,” said James, quick to reassure her. “It isnae easy fer ye, as it isnae easy fer me. But it’s all in the past now. I’ll take ye home with me, Freya. If… if ye agree.”
Even in her wildest dreams, Freya hadn’t allowed herself to ever think James would take her home with him if he ever remembered his past. She had always thought that having his memory back would mean the end of the road for them, that the pull of his old life would be too strong to resist even if there was no place for her in it.
But now there James was, offering her everything she could have asked from him. Wherever his home was, whoever he was revealed to be, Freya wanted this; she wanted to be with him.
“Aye,” she said, those stinging tears finally falling from her eyes. With a gentle hand, James wiped them away, beaming at her.
“Ye mean it?”
“Of course,” Freya said. “Of course I’ll come with ye, Na–James. Naething would make me happier.”
Her heart fluttered and soared. Her hands reached for him, holding onto his shoulders as she kissed him again, and the more he deepened the kiss, the more heat pooled deep in her core, her desire growing by the minute.
After everything they had been through in the past few days, it was a comfort like no other to have him this close, to feel his body under her hands. With trembling fingers, she traced the contours of his muscles over his clothes, pressing into the valleys and over the swells of his chest and stomach—each touch more enjoyable than the last, each caress stoking the flames of her need.
Every pent-up emotion, everything she had been suppressing these past few days, it was all swiftly transmuted into unbridled desire. Tensions between them had run high for so long that now their longing for each other had built up and there was only one outlet for it. Freya could feel the same yearning in James, in the way his fingers dug into the flesh of her hips and his lips demanded more and more from her, his tongue slipping past the seam of her own.
No words were needed between them. They moved in tandem, James pulling her into his lap as they kissed. Freya settled easily on top of him, her hips moving on their own accord as she writhed against him, every other thought quickly chased out of her mind. There was nothing but the two of them and the gentle breeze on her skin as James undressed her, pushing at the fabric of her dress until it had pooled around her waist.
It wasn’t the first time she had been nude in front of him, but once again, she could hardly fight the urge to cover herself. Some of her modesty was preserved by the long strands of hair that fell over her breasts, but then James pushed them behind her shoulders, his hands then following a path south. His fingers traced the swell of her breasts, stopping for a moment to tease her nipples and draw a surprised gasp out of her.
Even this simple touch was enough to make her feel as though her entire body was on fire. It didn’t help that James was so warm against her, his hands a stark contrast to the chill of the night air, his touch like a branding iron wherever he roamed over her body.
“Ye’re the bonniest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, his voice hushed and almost reverent. One of his hands reached between them, snaking under her skirts to skim over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, the anticipation of the touch she desired so terribly making her tremble. “Let me pleasure ye. Let me show ye how good ye can feel.”
Freya already knew how good she could feel in James’ hands. Since the last time he had touched her, the memory of it had returned to her often, turning the blood in her veins into liquid fire. Now, she wanted it more than anything—to feel those plush lips against her most sensitive spot once more, to feel him push just past the entrance of her body with his tongue.
Silently, she nodded, arms wrapping around his neck to hold him close. It was all the permission James needed to press his fingers against her, sliding with ease into the moisture that hadalready gathered there. Upon feeling it, he gave her a satisfied grin, one that promised her more than words ever could.
