“You’re impossible.” He either looked utterly annoyed or concerned.
I couldn’t tell which one it was. “Who’s more impossible?” I could only think about the way Kylana touched his hand. I didn’t want to think about her.
“What are you talking about?” Gently he set my boots aside.
“Her.” I shouldn’t have had the wine. Now I was saying things I didn’t even want to think about.
“We’re not having this discussion right now.” His words were sharp as he stroked his jaw. “You’re not yourself.”
“She is really pretty, Fyn.” She was too pretty. “Don’t make noise whenever you come back in later. I need to sleep. I have to go trade myself tomorrow.”
“You don’t even know what you’re saying.”
I did, but I was certain to regret it all in the morning. The room spun as I stood—a whirl of muted colors. When I stumbled again, he wrapped his arm around me.
My hand braced his chest.
“I’m staying here. I’ll sleep on the floor so that I don’t disturb you.” His gaze fell to my hand when it didn’t move.
The wine hit me even harder. “Don’t be—” I forgot the words I was going to say. “We have lots of horse riding tomorrow.”
“Horse riding?”
My hand trembled as his laughter rattled him. I looked up into his eyes and suddenly I wasn’t well.
“Fyn… there’s something.” Every moment of laughter. Every rude remark—I wasn’t ready for it to stop. “You need to know.”
His heart raced beneath my palm until he slowly pulled my hand back. “Whatever you want to tell me, tell me tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow you’re trading me, remember? Tomorrow is?—”
“Tomorrow is better.” He said it as if it pained him.
I slapped the bed beside me. “You will sleep here and I promise… I won’t look at you.”
“Stars above,” he grumbled.
My eyes met his. “You know you don’t want to camp. You could be comfortable.”
“I definitely prefer not to camp.” He lay down beside me.
Sleep took me quickly.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FYN
The moment I lay down beside her, she fell asleep. I could smell the floral soap she last washed her hair with.
I shouldn’t have agreed to any of this.
The stars must have cursed me for some reason.
I was lying in bed next to the one woman I wasn’t supposed to want, wanting her.
Not knowing what she was going to say was clawing at me. I should have let her speak, but if she had—I would never know if it was her or the wine.
No male wanted to be chosen in a drunken confession. Ashlyn had made it her mission not to choose me.
