I arch a brow at him because, really? “They both float. What’s the difference?”
“You take a boat mayhap a few miles from shore. Catch a few fish. Come back. But a ship? She’ll carry you to the horizon and back. Trust in her to protect you from the harshest storms, and she’ll always bring you home.”
Huh. That was… rather sweet. Romantic, almost.
Every time my morose lumbersnack talks about sailing, he lights up.
It’s adorable.
Too bad my own trust has been broken once already, and I’ll be damned before I let it happen again.
“Of course, stud muffin. How could I forget?” I give his hand a pat that’s more like a smack, then continue. “We sailed toward the setting sun on Gunnar’sship—not a boat!—and when I turned, he was on bended knee, holding out this beautiful ring!” I hold out my hand so they can see Gunnar’s stunning craftsmanship. Mum gasps in delight and Nan just about swoons.
“And what did he say?” Mum presses, looking expectantly at my faux fiancé. Nan and Dad focus their attention on Gunnar as well. He clears his throat.
“Well, I… I told him…” His silver gaze finds mine.
“Mum, easy!” I say, dismissing Gunnar with a wave. “He’s quite shy.”
“I told him,” Gunnar says, tone sure and steady, “that I’d never loved another like him, and that there would be no greater honor in this life than to share it by his side.” There’s a catch in his voice, a quiver ofsomething.Sadness?
“That’s so sweet,” Mum says, her smile all ooey-gooey, a hand to her heart.
“It really was,” I say, and my voice comes out far too breathless. How could I have known this moody guy was so… tender and romantic?
“I’m going to refill the kettle,” I say, springing up and betraying that my cup’s still half full when tea splashes on my hand. The burning sting becomes less tolerable once I’m in the kitchen. Damn, did Mum heat the kettle over a volcano?
While the kettle boils, I run my hand under cool water.
“Why didn’t you tell us about him?” Dad’s voice makes me sigh.
Drying my hands on my pants, I turn to face him. “Because I knew how you’d react. I mean, really, Dad? Bringing up some raid from a thousand years ago, as if that has any relevance!”
Dad rubs the back of his neck, eyes fixed on his feet. I grab the steaming electric kettle, but before I can flounce off in a huff, Dad says, “You’re sure about this? About him?”
I whip around, hardly able to contain my astonished laugh. “Pretty sure, yeah, since we’re engaged.” I can’t help feeling more than a prickle of annoyance on Gunnar’s behalf. He’s been nothing but gracious and patient.
Dad folds his arms, brow furrowed. “Lo, after everything that happened, how can you trust shifters?”
“He’s not the one who attacked me. You can’t blame every shifter for the actions of one,” I reply.
“You almost died!” Dad says, anguish thickening his voice. “I don’t want to see you hurt again.”
Memories rear their ugly heads, of waking up in hospital, confused and hurting everywhere. Mum’s tear-streaked face, Dad’s red-rimmed eyes. The way my stomach had sunk when I remembered what had happened,whohad hurt me. The sour taste of bile in my throat, the sting of tears in my nose.
Why? Why had he hurt me? What had I done?
“Gunnar wouldn’t—he’d never hurt me.”
I’d thought the same about the last shifter and have the scars to prove how very, very wrong I was. Still, Gunnar doesn’t deserve to be judged just because he happens to be the same species as… as him.
“Gunnar made that ring,” I say, pleased when surprise lifts my father’s brow. “By hand. It must have taken him hours but he did it anyway. He wanted it to be from the heart. That’s the kind ofman he is. And anyone would be lucky to have him. Give him a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise you.”
Kettle in hand, I go back to the sitting room.
“Your brother did that?” Mum’s laughing so hard, her eyes are teary.
Gunnar nods, grinning so wide that a dimple flashes in his cheek. A bloodydimple. “Aye! Lyall’s tongue was stuck to that icicle for a whole day!”
