“No. Keep your eyes forward.”
She sighed, moved her hand to touch his thigh and knew he was opening his breeks. He nudged her legs further apart with his own. She braced her hands on the wall, pushing back as he entered her easily.
“You were ready for me.”
“Yes,” she hissed as he hit a sensitive spot inside her, making her groan with pleasure. She closed her eyes and let her forehead rest on her hands. He gripped her hips tightly, and they moved together, faster and faster. His fingers slid around her hip to touch her and she cried out as she came, her muscles clenching around him. Arne thrust deep inside her, then she felt him stiffen and his head fell forward against her shoulder.
Neither of them said anything, both trying desperately to catch their breath.
After a moment, he withdrew, and her dress fell back around her ankles, but he continued to press her up against the wall. His breathing was deep, uneven. He shuddered.
“This was a mistake.”
“Arne, no… I thought—"
“What if there is a child?”
She thought for a moment, counting days, relieved it was the possibility of a child, rather than the act itself he considered a mistake. Last night he had withdrawn from her before he came, but there was still a chance she could get pregnant. However, the timing meant it should be safe. “It is unlikely. But if it happens, I will deal with it the way I deal with everything else in my life.”
He turned her around so she was leaning back against the wall and looked at her, frowning. “And how is that?”
“Badly,” she admitted, and laughed. He didn’t.
“It does not look to me like you are doing badly at all.”
He brushed his lips over hers and she shivered. How she wanted to believe him.
She snorted. “Really? I am a princess, and for more than half a year I have been running away with my son from… I am not even sure who from. My brother? Lord Marcant? And we are currently sheltering in a shieling on a bleak moor, with limited stocks of food in the middle of a snowstorm.”
“You are alive. Your son is alive. The venison will last for days. We are together.”
She grabbed his arm when he stepped outside the woodshed and started towards the shieling door. The snow had stopped and for now the woods and loch were visible again. “Do you wish we could stay here?”
“In one way, yes.”
They stood together in the open doorway, embracing one another. She placed her head on his chest and allowed herself to relax, to breathe and believe in him.
“Although personally, I would prefer to be somewhere with a few more luxuries,” he said. “And I am sure you are used to higher standards than I am.”
She tightened her arms around him. “None of that matters when you don’t feel safe. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For making me feel safe. For saying you would protect me. It says something about my life that I feel safest in the arms of a man who doesn’t trust me and only followed me because he thought I was about to betray him and his kin.”
His arms tightened around her in return, but he said nothing.
Just then, Caelin pulled the door open, and they jerked away from one another.
“Mama?”
“Stay inside, Caelin,” said Gemma, looking around. Caelin’s voice was high-pitched and would carry, especially in the cold air.
“You are supposed to be inside too, Mama.”
“Your mother will stay inside from now on,” said Arne gruffly, as he moved aside to let her pass and go into the shieling.
She tried to tell herself he didn’t mean it the way it sounded. But it still hurt.
