So quickly and so well, for that matter, he knew he was in trouble. If he let this go on, his desire might be unstoppable. More than that, he sensed she would open up to him. He could pull her onto him now and lose himself in her heated sheath. Drown in the pleasure and escape she could afford him.
She didn’t deserve that, though.
Not here.
Not like this.
And certainly not until they were married.
She may think this a grand adventure, but it was dangerous and her emotions more fragile than she realized. He would not have her look back on her first time with him as a stolen moment without meaning. Nor him as someone who would steal that moment so callously.
“We cannae,” he whispered, breaking off the kiss before it was too late, and he couldn’t stop himself. He rested his forehead against hers. “Not here. ’Tis far too dangerous.”
“I’m sorry, I—”
“Nay.” He pressed a finger to her kiss-swollen lips. “No being sorry. Especially not for this…never for this.”
Needing her to understand, he looked at her and remained truthful. It wasn’t all about his inability to protect everyone if he lost himself in lust.
“With or without yer virtue, and pious or not, if I keep kissing ye ’twill soon become impossible to stop,” he confessed. “And I willnae lay with ye the first time unwed out in the middle of nowhere on the cold, hard ground.” He was more honest still. “When I take ye, and I will if ye’ll have me, ’twill be on a proper bed after the wooing ye deserve.”
Her lips curled up. “Wooing?”
He met her smile, caught yet again by how easily it came. How he liked the feel of it once more. Especially when it was for her. “Aye, wooing.”
Something better done once honesty lay betwixt them. He should tell her that he’d lied to get her away from Randolph and Bartholomew. That he would have saved her friends whether or not she agreed to marry him.
Yet, he hesitated, not wanting to ruin the lighthearted moment.
“Was what I enjoyed the past few weeks not wooing?” A soft smile lingered on her face. “The long conversations? Laughter? Your kindness? Even, I dare say, your flirtation?”
“Aye,” he acknowledged. “But ’twas only a few weeks’ worth. Ye deserve more than that.”
Just as soon as he told her the truth. What sort of man would he be if he didn't? In all honesty, what did it say about him that he hadn’t already?
“That you are the kind of man who puts getting innocent lasses away from monsters before all else,” Edmund would say.
“I cannot speak to what I do and do not deserve,” she said softly. “I can say, however, that I’ve enjoyed our time together thus far and look forward to what lies ahead.” She surprised him with her forthrightness. “That said, whilst wooing is always appreciated, I'm of the mind ’tis not necessary nor prudent to experiencing…more.”
He might have seen many things coming, but not that.
Not that she was eager to make love.
The fact that she'd never been kissed before and lost her virtue to an old man was unfortunate. In truth, he was somewhat shocked she wasn’t turned off to the act altogether after that. But then there was a fire in Greer. Passion struggling to break free. A lass who, by the grace of God, had not yet been crushed by monsters.
Day by day, she reminded him more of her mother with her straightforward talk, and he liked it immensely. Not just because she grew more comfortable with him, but because he genuinely liked how she saw things. How she said things.
In turn, he found himself saying how he felt, too.
“We will take things as they come.” He trailed his finger along her jaw. “As to wooing, it comes in many forms.” He traced the pad of his thumb over her lower lip, eager for the moment he could explore the rest of her body. For when he could show her how bonnie a lass could feel simply by the way a man touched and looked at her. How wooing and seduction could cross over so very easily. “Soon, lass. When ’tis right, aye?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “When ’tis right.”
Before he grew too fixated on her lips again, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, tucked her against his side, and rested his dagger on his lap.
“You won't sleep, will you?” she said softly. “Like you rarely did during the war when watching for the enemy?”
“Nay,” he replied. “I willnae sleep, but ye will.” He tucked the blanket more firmly around her. “Sleep, so ye are rested for when Edmund comes, and ye truly begin yer grand adventure, aye?”
“Yes,” she murmured on a yawn. “Though ’twould be better if I kept you company, would it not?”
“Nay, ’tis best I remain vigilant.” He kissed the top of her head when she cozied down against him. “And I dinnae think so clearly when ye speak.”
Or do much of anything, really. Everything about her was distracting. Overly alluring.
“’Tis good to know I’m still interesting,” she whispered.
“Oh, ye are,” he assured. “More so than most.”
“I don't know about that,” she whispered drowsily. “I once knew someone more interesting. You would have liked her as much as she likes you, I think.”
Something about the sad tone in her voice caught his attention.
“I’m sure I would.” He rested his hand over hers. “Ye must miss her verra much.”
“You have no idea,” she whispered so softly he almost didn't catch it. “Though the pain has lessened some these past few weeks. I think I have you to thank for that, too.”
While tempted to ask her more, to understand the sadness in her voice, he did not. He wouldn’t take advantage of her exhausted state but wait until she shared more later if she were so inclined.
As it happened, he spent every waking moment that night thinking about her. Of what he hoped lay ahead for them. First off, teaching her how to fight. He knew how frustrated she was that she knew so little. She wanted to learn how to wield a blade better. To defend herself and others if need be.
While part of him rebelled at the idea of her being anywhere near battling, he found her ambitions admirable. Her need to become more of a protector than she already was. For she was very much one when it came to those she cared about. So said her every action around Ada and her wee bairns.
Though his eyes remained open, he never had a more restful eve than he did with Greer tucked against his side. Every so often, she murmured to Margery but inevitably cuddled closer to him, breathed deeply, and drifted back off.
“Ah, but a mother could not ask for a more heartwarming scene upon waking,” Cecille said softly when she appeared in the wee hours of the morn. Her knowing gaze went from Teagan to her slumbering daughter. A small, teasing smile ghosted her face. “Nice to see you continuing to merely ‘like’ her.”
Rather than move and risk waking Greer, he quirked the corner of his mouth, may she make of it what she would. Naturally, she took that as an invitation to go on.
“You make a lovely couple, just as I knew you would.” Her smile wavered as she looked at Greer, her gaze suddenly different. Mayhap a tad haunted. “Truly a perfect fit for one another.”