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He huffed.
“How are you feeling?” Her gaze tracked down over his shoulders and chest, lingering on the blotches of colorful bruises that mottled his skin.
“I’ve been better.”
“Your brother … he didn’t torture you, did he?”
Darach shrugged. “I don’t know … is shoveling shit and shivering through every night in a freezing hut considered torture?” He was deliberately making light of this; it was easier that way.
“I didn’t give up hope, you know?” she admitted softly. “I kept telling myself you were still alive.” She hesitated then. “Although you gave me a scare in that workshop … for a few moments there, I thought Gregor was going to give you a binding sigil.”
“It was just a ruse to get close to you.” He smiled then. “Don’t worry, I never intended to let that prick tattoo me.”
Ailsa exhaled sharply. “Let’s hope that blow to the head killed him.”
He nodded, observing her closely now. Even exhausted, her hair plastered against her skull, with dark shadows under her eyes, she was beautiful. The rain made her pale skin look almost translucent, emphasizing the lush redness of her lips.
Gods, that mouth.
After their first kiss in Ardroth, it had been hard to think of anything else.
And even now, he found it hard not to stare at it.
Get a grip on yourself, man.
He cleared his throat. “Come on. Let’s get back indoors. We got a head start on my brother’s warriors, but let’s not push things.”
“Aye … but can I speak to you first?”
Darach’s gut clenched. His first thought was how he’d failed her. She’d hired him to protect her, but he hadn’t. “I let you and Kayla down, I know,” he replied. “Some rescue.”
“You did your best. I don’t blame you for that.” A groove had etched between her eyebrows now, and something under his ribs knotted in response. Aye, he had some explaining to do.
He cleared his throat. “I should have told you the real story about Niall and me … I wanted to.”
She pulled the fur closer about her. “But you didn’t. Instead, back in that shieling, you accused me of manipulation.” Her lips pursed then. “But all the while you’d had no problem with controlling my opinion of you.”
Warmth rolled over him. She made him sound like a shitweasel.
Maybe he was.
“About my stupid accusation …” he began with a grimace. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did that night.” He broke off then. “No. That’s not enough. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I took everything that had passed between us … all the things you’d trusted me with, and all the ways you’d let me close … and told you none of it had been real.”
She stared back at him, unspeaking.
His jaw tightened. “I knew how hard it had been for you to trust me, and I threw that trust back in your face.” He paused then and looked away. “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t manipulate me. You didn’t trick me into wanting you. I was afraid of what you were, and instead of facing that fear myself, I made it your fault.”
She made a sound in the back of her throat, and his gaze returned to hers. “I’m sorry, Ailsa. Truly.”
They looked at each other for a long moment before tension rippled across her face. She then cut her gaze away. “What is the real story with your brother?”
He watched her closely, slightly taken aback. She’d confronted him about his behavior but suddenly seemed skittish. Maybe she didn’t want to dwell on what they’d seen in that shieling.
The ravaged throats of those hunters.
Her long nails gleaming in the dusk light.
In truth, he didn’t want to think about those things either.
