She arched a delicate eyebrow, but she slid closer. He watched her for a second and then reached over to pull her higher so that she was curled up with her back resting against his bent leg. He settled one of his hands on her thigh, leaving the other free to tangle in her loose hair. Now they could talk.
“Why do I feel as if you’re getting ready to hold me here?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I’ve learned my lesson. This time when I say something stupid and fuck everything up, I’ll have a good grip on you. That way you can’t go anywhere until I’ve fixed it.”
She chuckled. “Fair enough. But first I should tell you that I’m not planning to go anywhere.”
“Really?” He wanted to believe her. Desperately.
She lifted her small hand to settle it against his jaw, looking into his eyes. “I was hurt, Tor. And afraid. But I’ve started to realize that you were afraid too. You said all the wrong things… but maybe, if you hadn’t thought I was leaving, you would have handled everything differently. Can we, maybe, try again? Start over from the beginning?”
Gods. He wanted that to be true… but he still wasn’t convinced. The very last thing he wanted was to chase her away, but there was one thing still standing between them. Something he didn’t know how to solve. “You didn’t want to be with another soldier, Keely, but that’s all I’ve ever been.”
Her fingers twitched on his cheek. “That’s simply not true. You’re so much more than just a soldier. You’re the best, most honorable man I’ve ever known.”
He let the warmth of her fingers settle into his skin, gently filtering down inside him, and tried to explain. “Keely, I don’t have anything to offer you. You want a home and security, and—”
“Tor.” She kissed him gently, a soft press of her lips to his, interrupting him. And then again, another fleeting pressure. “I don’t have a home either. You don’t count that against me, do you? Isn’t this something we could figure out together?”
He swallowed, trying to think. He had been so focused on his failures. His losses. Why had he been so unable to get past them? Why had he spent so many months wrapped in such helpless misery, convinced he could never move forward? Why had he assumed that she couldn’t possibly want him?
Keely bit her lip, eyes soft and shining suspiciously. “It’s true that I was afraid of caring for a soldier. But I was prepared to risk it for you. I still am, Tor. I’m prepared to take the risk if that’s what you want. Whatever the cost might be in the end, you’re worth it to me. And if the last days have reminded us of anything, it’s that our lives are so very fragile. We should take this chance at happiness.”
You’re worth it to me.
Gods.
Whatever the cost.
When had he ever been worth anything? The roaring in his ears was back. Along with a burning in his eyes and an ache in his throat.
Her fingers pressed into his cheeks, tilting his head up to meet her eyes. “Did you hear me, Tor? You are worth the risk.”
Her words broke something inside him—some tightly coiled leash that had been holding him together—and he started to cry.
He had carried so much loss with him for so long and never mourned it—the king, his family, his place in the palace, his understanding of the world. And so much fear; that he was not and never would be good enough, that Keely would leave, that she could never genuinely want a man like him.
Now, with her hands on his face, her soft, jade-green eyes looking into his, full of acceptance, full of the belief that he was worth taking a risk on, all that buried emotion came pouring out.
His father would have been horrified. Men didn’t cry. They didn’t show feelings, didn’t experience fear or grief. But he couldn’t find it in him to care about whether tears would make him seem weak. The torrent of emotion inundating him was too overwhelming to try and hold back.
He had never allowed himself to grieve, but now he did. Now, with her holding him gently, he allowed himself to let it go, and the tears rolling in hot waves down his face purged the darkness that had been festering inside him, scoured it away, and made space for the light she let in.
“Oh, Bard.” She wiped away the tears with her fingers as she murmured helplessly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Bard.”
“No.” He forced the word up through his aching throat as he ran his hands up her back, one between her shoulder blades, the other behind her head, and pulled her into his chest. “This is a gift—you’ve given me a gift. This… I’ve just never felt....”
She kissed him again, understanding what he couldn’t say—that he’d never allowed himself to feel at all until her.
She lifted her eyes to his and smiled. “We’re going to make a family.”
Gods. “We already are a family,” he whispered. His dream of what a family should be.
Keely sighed softly. And then, almost too quietly to hear, she murmured, “You’re going to be a wonderful father.”
He didn’t know about that. He would have to learn everything from scratch, learn how to be the kind of father he had wished for. The kind of father that was worthy of Keely and the pea. But he did know that nothing would ever hurt them. He would never let her go again. And he would tear down the world to keep them safe.
She lifted her face and kissed him again. He tasted salt, and warmth, and Keely. Could feel her body, alive and soft and vibrant in his arms. The light in his heart grew, warming and spreading through him, reverberating around the woman he hadn’t imagined he could possibly deserve.
