weep?”
Aliss sniffled. “I do not know.”
“Does the crying help?”
“I think so.” She shook her head. “Though I am not certain.” She cried some more.
Her tears once again stabbed at his heart and he felt as helpless as a warrior without his weapon or shield.
“I rarely cry.” She sniffled back her tears.
“Everyone cries.”
“Have you?”
He almost felt as if he could drown in the tears that pooled in her wide eyes, their green color reminding him of the surface of a loch sprinkled with nature’s summer dust.
He kissed her fingers again, taking time to think over her question. He remembered shedding tears now and again as a young lad, the episodes fading as he matured. He, like Aliss, rarely shed tears except . . .
“I wept when my wife, Kendra, died in my arms and again when I held my stillborn son.”
“I am so sorry,” she said, freeing her hands to grasp his in hers. “My tears are frivolous compared to yours.”
“All tears are relevant to those who shed them.”
She stared at him a moment. “I had not expected wisdom from the Wolf.”
He moved in closer. “Never underestimate a wolf. They are cunning and wise in ways man does not realize.”
“Do you warn me?”
“Yes.”
He was not surprised when she released his hands. It was better this way, better to keep a distance between them. His plan had been set in motion. There was no changing it. He could not change it. He had waited too long to settle this debt of honor. He could let nothing stop him.
Nothing.
Damn, but he wanted to kiss her again, yank her into his arms and ravish her mouth until they finally lay copulating on the ground.
He jumped up and stepped away from her, but the vision had already been burned into his mind. He could not stop seeing them both naked, her creamy skin so stark in contrast to the bed of earth beneath her. And her red hair flamed as if it had been ignited with the passion that raged through them both.
He could feel his hands spreading her thighs, hear her welcoming moans, feel her flesh wet with desire, and he was rock hard with wanting for her.
Rogan turned narrowed eyes on her, his breathing heavy and his salacious thoughts soaring. With a growl and a snarl, he escaped the woods, leaving his prey intact.
Aliss remained on the stump, stunned. In one breath, he soothed her, and in another, he warned her before fleeing like a scowling beast. She did not understand him or her tears.
This was the very reason she had not entertained the thought of marriage. She did not want love interfering with her work. And love did that; it interfered to the point where all thought revolved around that special someone.
In the last few hours her mind had been sidetracked from her healing work to thoughts of kissing Rogan. The kiss itself had nearly devastated her. It was more than she had imagined and the emotions it had stirred in her had brought her to tears.
For what reason?
She had no answer.
What she did have was clear proof that kissing and anything that went with it would greatly interfere with her healing work, and that she could not tolerate. She could not have her mind occupied with nonsense while she dealt with the sick.
She stood and wiped the last vestiges of tears off her face with her fingers. She threw back her shoulders and stuck out her chin.
Nothing would stop her from treating the ill, finding ways to prevent illness and cures for recurring maladies. She was a healer first and foremost, nothing else mattered, especially a kiss.
Even if it did feel too good to be true.
Even if she did enjoy it immensely.
Even if she had thought about kissing Rogan again.
Even if she desperately wanted to.
Even if . . .
She shook her head and refused to think any more on the matter. It wasted precious time that she could be spending on her healing work.
She was a healer; she would heal.
“A woman loves.”
Damn her sister’s voice. She would be the one to remind her that she was a woman
Aliss sniffled. “I do not know.”
“Does the crying help?”
“I think so.” She shook her head. “Though I am not certain.” She cried some more.
Her tears once again stabbed at his heart and he felt as helpless as a warrior without his weapon or shield.
“I rarely cry.” She sniffled back her tears.
“Everyone cries.”
“Have you?”
He almost felt as if he could drown in the tears that pooled in her wide eyes, their green color reminding him of the surface of a loch sprinkled with nature’s summer dust.
He kissed her fingers again, taking time to think over her question. He remembered shedding tears now and again as a young lad, the episodes fading as he matured. He, like Aliss, rarely shed tears except . . .
“I wept when my wife, Kendra, died in my arms and again when I held my stillborn son.”
“I am so sorry,” she said, freeing her hands to grasp his in hers. “My tears are frivolous compared to yours.”
“All tears are relevant to those who shed them.”
She stared at him a moment. “I had not expected wisdom from the Wolf.”
He moved in closer. “Never underestimate a wolf. They are cunning and wise in ways man does not realize.”
“Do you warn me?”
“Yes.”
He was not surprised when she released his hands. It was better this way, better to keep a distance between them. His plan had been set in motion. There was no changing it. He could not change it. He had waited too long to settle this debt of honor. He could let nothing stop him.
Nothing.
Damn, but he wanted to kiss her again, yank her into his arms and ravish her mouth until they finally lay copulating on the ground.
He jumped up and stepped away from her, but the vision had already been burned into his mind. He could not stop seeing them both naked, her creamy skin so stark in contrast to the bed of earth beneath her. And her red hair flamed as if it had been ignited with the passion that raged through them both.
He could feel his hands spreading her thighs, hear her welcoming moans, feel her flesh wet with desire, and he was rock hard with wanting for her.
Rogan turned narrowed eyes on her, his breathing heavy and his salacious thoughts soaring. With a growl and a snarl, he escaped the woods, leaving his prey intact.
Aliss remained on the stump, stunned. In one breath, he soothed her, and in another, he warned her before fleeing like a scowling beast. She did not understand him or her tears.
This was the very reason she had not entertained the thought of marriage. She did not want love interfering with her work. And love did that; it interfered to the point where all thought revolved around that special someone.
In the last few hours her mind had been sidetracked from her healing work to thoughts of kissing Rogan. The kiss itself had nearly devastated her. It was more than she had imagined and the emotions it had stirred in her had brought her to tears.
For what reason?
She had no answer.
What she did have was clear proof that kissing and anything that went with it would greatly interfere with her healing work, and that she could not tolerate. She could not have her mind occupied with nonsense while she dealt with the sick.
She stood and wiped the last vestiges of tears off her face with her fingers. She threw back her shoulders and stuck out her chin.
Nothing would stop her from treating the ill, finding ways to prevent illness and cures for recurring maladies. She was a healer first and foremost, nothing else mattered, especially a kiss.
Even if it did feel too good to be true.
Even if she did enjoy it immensely.
Even if she had thought about kissing Rogan again.
Even if she desperately wanted to.
Even if . . .
She shook her head and refused to think any more on the matter. It wasted precious time that she could be spending on her healing work.
She was a healer; she would heal.
“A woman loves.”
Damn her sister’s voice. She would be the one to remind her that she was a woman
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