“Are you going to bed?” he asked when he saw her watching.
“Yes. Unless you needed something.”
“Nay. Go on. I’ll see you soon.”
Soon. She swallowed and wrestled with her feelings of anticipation, excitement, and dread. Inside their room, she closed her eyes and let out a breath.
“It will be fine. Stop being a goose,” she told herself.
She was still brushing out her hair when he came into their room. She hadn’t had time to get into bed. Instead, she stood nervously before the fire in nothing but her shift. While she’d been waiting for him to arrive, in her mind she’d played through ways of enticing him to bed.
Unfortunately, what she knew of seduction wouldn’t have filled the tip of a thimble. Now that he was here, those few ideas she’d been considering fled in a flood of anxiety. She wasn’t brave enough to try tempting him, even if she knew how to do such a thing.
She crossed her arms to cover the peaks of her nipples, certain they showed through the thin fabric. Upon seeing him, her nipples had tightened all on their own.
He closed the chamber door and stood there gazing at her, his mouth slightly open. His hand hovered in midair as if he’d been frozen. Only his eyes moved, starting at her bare feet and rising slowly to her loose hair.
He swallowed and took a step closer, then another, until he was standing directly in front of her. His chest pressed up against her crossed arms. She had no choice but to drop her protective stance.
“I’m sorry I didn’t knock. I interrupted you.” He didn’t look the least bit sorry as he studied her face, his gaze settling on her lips.
Her tongue darted out to moisten them, and his pupils flared.
“Are you?” she asked coyly, remembering her training on how to flirt. “Sorry?”
“No. Not even a wee bit,” he admitted and shook his head. A slow, mischievous smile took over his handsome face. “In fact, I’m planning to be here earlier and earlier each night, to be sure to catch you just like this.” He laughed, and she laughed with him.
“Soon we would be going to bed at noon,” she suggested.
“I don’t think I would mind that overmuch.” His smile faded away again.
The heat sizzled between them, drawing her in.
He is kind. He is tender. He will not hurt me. She repeated the words like an oath, praying her body and mind would be at peace with what she both hoped and feared would happen next.
As he leaned down, she went up on her tiptoes to meet him. His lips touched hers with a tenderness she’d never known but somehow expected from this man. Everything about him—despite his hard muscles and intimidating size—was tenderness incarnate.
His large hand cradled the back of her head as he tilted her so he could deepen the kiss. His tongue danced with hers, and she reached out to steady herself. Her hands gripped his shirt. His other arm wrapped around her waist, offering support for her wobbly legs.
This was heaven. This was how it was supposed to be between a husband and a wife. Pleasure and softness. Hazy rapture and warm smiles.
When he pulled her up into his arms, she gasped with surprise and an unexpected flood of happiness. He set her on the bed and took a step back. Then he reached for the buckle of his weapons belt. She gasped again, though not with happiness. But innate fear.
A memory assaulted her of another man removing his belt with dreadful purpose.
Cameron stepped away and raised his hands. “It’s fine, lass. I mean ye no harm.”
She knew that, but she realized she’d instinctively pulled back and was crouched on the other side of the bed, ready to escape. All the glorious fogginess from a moment ago lifted, and they were just two people—no, two strangers in a room together.
“I’m sorry,” she said and slipped under the blankets. Her heart and her breath were still heaving. Please, not again.
“Maybe I should stay on the floor tonight,” he offered, and didn’t give her a chance to argue before grabbing a blanket and doing just that.
She’d run him off with her fit. What must he think?
She touched her lips where they still sizzled from his kiss. She needed to get over this panic so she could be with Cameron properly.
Before he gave up on her completely.
…
Bloody hell, Cam thought as he tossed and turned for possibly the hundredth time that night. It wasn’t just the discomfort of the hard floor that made him irritable. It was that he’d taken another step backward with Mari.
She’d recoiled in fear because he’d taken things too far. He’d told himself earlier to go slow. But then he’d seen her in her shift, the light behind her showcasing her shadowed perfection through the thin fabric.
There was no such thing as slow after that. He’d wanted her and had stupidly rushed to take what he’d wanted.
He’d asked her to trust him, but now he didn’t think he could trust himself. What kind of message was he sending her? She’d enjoyed their kiss, he could tell that much. But he should have given her time to adjust to the idea before pressing for more.
It must have been two hours since he’d kissed her, yet he could still taste her on his tongue. That memory of her lips made him want another kiss. But she was across the room asleep.
Except…
He heard a small sound. A sniff. Then a whimper. Was she having a bad dream? Silently, as he was trained to move, he rose and went to the bed. She was lying on her side with her eyes closed and tears on her cheeks.
“Mari? Wake up, lass. It’s another dream.”
Her eyes opened immediately, unlike the last time when he’d had to force her awake. She sat up and wiped her eyes. It didn’t seem she’d been asleep. Which meant he, not her dreams, had caused her tears.
“I apologize for my behavior earlier. When I reacted—” she started.
He didn’t allow her to finish. “You have nothing to be sorry for, lass. You did nothing wrong. It was me. I need to be more patient. I’ll not come to you again, not until you no longer fear my touch.”
He felt the heat of shame on his cheeks and was glad for the darkness. She owed him nothing. He hated that she was crying because of something that had happened between them.
“It’s not you or your touch I fear,” she said softly. “It’s just…certain things make me remember unpleasant incidents, and it taints what is happening between us.”
Hadn’t he just been berating himself for knowing one thing and doing another? He knew he needed to go slowly, and yet he’d practically launched himself at her for wanting her so badly.