feel them.”
“How do you feel them?” she asked, frowning. She was so curious, but asking these questions made her uneasy. They were so personal, and she didn’t want him to think he was being interrogated.
“Inside. They steal my breath. They wrap around my chest and my throat until they threaten to crush me.”
“I hate them,” she whispered. When he gave her an odd look, she explained, “I hate that they hurt you.”
He shrugged. “I have recovered every time. But twice I have lost consciousness.”
“Oh, Colin.” She wrapped her hand around his arm. “We need to learn how to make them go away.”
He sighed. “I dinna think they will.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated for a long moment, his gaze trained on the road. Then he said, “They’re determined to kill me. And they wilna stop until they do.”
Chapter 12
Late that night as the rain promised by the sheep finally came, pounding down on the inn’s rooftop, Colin learned Emilia’s determination was nothing to be trifled with. She refused to allow him to sleep on the floor, throwing their conversation from earlier in the day back at him.
“You said the demons attack when you’re alone,” she argued. “If you’re lying beside me, you’re not alone.”
If I’m lying beside you
, he wanted to retort,
I’m so painfully hard from wanting you, I canna sleep, anyhow.
Truth was, he didn’t trust himself. Every day, his desire for her had increased, and now it was a hungry, living thing inside him, demanding to be sated. And his weapons of logic and honor were beginning to falter behind the assault of such fierce need.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she told him, gray-blue eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”
How could she be so confident when he was not? It must be because she was inexperienced in matters between men and women.
“I think you’re the one who’s afraid,” she accused.
She was right about that.
“If you’re sleeping on the floor, then so am I.”
“Emilia,” he said on a sigh.
“Colin.”
They stared at each other, a contest of stubbornness. One he was destined to lose.
He shook his head. “Why?”
“You protect me with everything you have,” she said. “Why will you not allow me to do whatever I can to protect you?”
That wasn’t all there was to it. He didn’t know her level of awareness of it, but she was attracted to him, and that attraction made their sleeping together even more dangerous.
She looked away from him. “There’s more,” she said softly.
Of course there was. Much more.
“I sleep better when you’re close. The nightmares go away.”
He scowled. “You have nightmares?”
Still not looking at him, she nodded.
“About…what happened with your father?”
“They started before that incident,” she rasped out. “But…yes. Last night I was having a nightmare when I woke and realized you were having one, too.”
He blew out a breath.
“He was chasing me. With his cat-o’-nine-tails.” Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes grew bright. “But each time you’ve slept at my side,” she continued, her hands curling into fists, “I haven’t dreamed about him at all.”
With that, his arguments died away. “Verra well, then,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ll sleep on the bed.”
She breathed out in relief, but her gaze held more than relief. It held heat.
—
As he expected, it was a long night. She lay beside him, warm and sweet, with her arms twined around him. Torture.
He had to will his cock down a dozen times throughout the night. At one point, he woke from a tremulous doze with a straining erection, only to find the weight of her palm pressed against it. Glancing at her revealed that she was fast asleep, her face peaceful in slumber. Gently, he removed her hand and turned away from her, facing the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.
It was tempting to fill his mind with thoughts of battle, because it was the fastest way for him to deal with an
“How do you feel them?” she asked, frowning. She was so curious, but asking these questions made her uneasy. They were so personal, and she didn’t want him to think he was being interrogated.
“Inside. They steal my breath. They wrap around my chest and my throat until they threaten to crush me.”
“I hate them,” she whispered. When he gave her an odd look, she explained, “I hate that they hurt you.”
He shrugged. “I have recovered every time. But twice I have lost consciousness.”
“Oh, Colin.” She wrapped her hand around his arm. “We need to learn how to make them go away.”
He sighed. “I dinna think they will.”
“Why not?”
He hesitated for a long moment, his gaze trained on the road. Then he said, “They’re determined to kill me. And they wilna stop until they do.”
Chapter 12
Late that night as the rain promised by the sheep finally came, pounding down on the inn’s rooftop, Colin learned Emilia’s determination was nothing to be trifled with. She refused to allow him to sleep on the floor, throwing their conversation from earlier in the day back at him.
“You said the demons attack when you’re alone,” she argued. “If you’re lying beside me, you’re not alone.”
If I’m lying beside you
, he wanted to retort,
I’m so painfully hard from wanting you, I canna sleep, anyhow.
Truth was, he didn’t trust himself. Every day, his desire for her had increased, and now it was a hungry, living thing inside him, demanding to be sated. And his weapons of logic and honor were beginning to falter behind the assault of such fierce need.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she told him, gray-blue eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t hurt me.”
How could she be so confident when he was not? It must be because she was inexperienced in matters between men and women.
“I think you’re the one who’s afraid,” she accused.
She was right about that.
“If you’re sleeping on the floor, then so am I.”
“Emilia,” he said on a sigh.
“Colin.”
They stared at each other, a contest of stubbornness. One he was destined to lose.
He shook his head. “Why?”
“You protect me with everything you have,” she said. “Why will you not allow me to do whatever I can to protect you?”
That wasn’t all there was to it. He didn’t know her level of awareness of it, but she was attracted to him, and that attraction made their sleeping together even more dangerous.
She looked away from him. “There’s more,” she said softly.
Of course there was. Much more.
“I sleep better when you’re close. The nightmares go away.”
He scowled. “You have nightmares?”
Still not looking at him, she nodded.
“About…what happened with your father?”
“They started before that incident,” she rasped out. “But…yes. Last night I was having a nightmare when I woke and realized you were having one, too.”
He blew out a breath.
“He was chasing me. With his cat-o’-nine-tails.” Her chest rose and fell, and her eyes grew bright. “But each time you’ve slept at my side,” she continued, her hands curling into fists, “I haven’t dreamed about him at all.”
With that, his arguments died away. “Verra well, then,” he said in a clipped voice. “I’ll sleep on the bed.”
She breathed out in relief, but her gaze held more than relief. It held heat.
—
As he expected, it was a long night. She lay beside him, warm and sweet, with her arms twined around him. Torture.
He had to will his cock down a dozen times throughout the night. At one point, he woke from a tremulous doze with a straining erection, only to find the weight of her palm pressed against it. Glancing at her revealed that she was fast asleep, her face peaceful in slumber. Gently, he removed her hand and turned away from her, facing the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.
It was tempting to fill his mind with thoughts of battle, because it was the fastest way for him to deal with an
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