Page 62 of A Hellion for the Highland Hawk
“Instead of feelin’ like ye’ve lost control, lass, why naegivecontrol to someone else for a while?” he suggested, his low voice pulling at invisible strings, making her body turn. “Aye, like that.”
“It’s no different,” she protested, though she felt her ire cool a tiny bit.
“There’s power in surrender, lass,” he told her, his thumb brushing along her jawline. “The real freedom is in admittin’ that ye couldnae have done anythin’ to save those ye’ve lost, those who were taken from ye, even if ye hadcontrol over the situation. Strength comes from acceptance, from nae fightin’ what cannae be fought.”
She sniffed. “Says the warrior.”
“Aye, says the warrior,” he replied in a silky voice that seemed to glide over her, stirring up the embers of desire that had been doused in the Great Hall after seeing Mrs. Crimmins again.
“Well, I think you’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she remarked, trying not to melt into him, trying not to want to. “If you felt powerless, you wouldn’t just stand there and say that.”
“Ye think I havenae felt powerless?” he murmured, his eyes catching the silvery shine of the moonlight. “Ye think there havenae been moments where I’ve thought,What’s the point of it all? Where I havenae wanted to curse the heavens until they listened, until they did mebiddin’?”
A vivid image flashed through her mind of him on his knees in some war-torn battlefield, streaked in blood, his booming voice carrying all the way up to the fates that liked to play games.
They’re toying with you, too,she wanted to tell him, doubting he would be so calm and rational if he learned that his days of fatherhood were numbered.
“Maybe there have, but… I don’t know,” she mumbled. “I don’t know what to think.”
“Those who think too much are the ones who die first in battle. By the time they’ve decided what they’re doin’, it’s all over,” he told her. “Those who surrender to the idea of ‘what will be will be’ are the ones who arenae slowed down by the weight of their own worries. Aye, they might die, but they ken that. It makes ‘em free. It makes ‘em calm. Take it from someone who kens.”
She tried to turn her gaze away, but Hunter gripped her jaw tighter, turning her head back to face him. Not painful, not forceful, but a command that her body instinctively wanted to listen to.
“I don’t see what any of that has to do with me,” she said. “I’m not fighting any battles.”
“Aye, ye are.” A small smile graced his lips as he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her temple, whispering, “Up here ye are, in that warrin’ mind of yers. So, I’m askin’ ye, tellin’ ye, to wave a white flag for a while.”
“But… what does that mean?” she asked, her voice strained.
He slid his arm around her waist and turned her so that her lower back bumped against the wall, his body pressing in so close that she feared the stone would give way and they would both tumble to a rather bloody death on the very,verydistant rocks below.
“Daenae think about the fall,” he murmured. “It’s nae in yer control. It’s in mine, and I wouldnae let ye fall.”
Slowly absorbing his words, she concentrated on the tight grip of his arm, the steady rise and fall of his chest against her, the hand that cradled her neck, and the hard muscle that he had honed through battles and endurance. A pillar of safety who would not let any harm come to her.
“Relax,” he whispered. “Lean back.”
“Are you mad?” she gasped.
“Lean back,” he repeated.
With her heart fluttering in her chest, she did as he asked, bending at the waist. His arm remained steadfast, his hand still cradling the back of her neck. As she felt her upper body lean over the wall, and the whipping wind rose to meet her from the steep drop below, she almost bailed.
Almost.
“Relax,” he murmured. “Ye’re safe. Ye’re free. I’m in control.”
Feeling her legs press against his, she took a shaky breath and leaned back as far as she could, the beautiful, star-drenched night sky opening up for her. And as her eyes took in the majesty, a sweeping sense of peace washed over her, as if she were in the midst of those stars.
Instinct urged her to be brave, to spread her arms, instead of hanging onto the last thread of control’s illusion by gripping Hunter’s shirt. But at the last second, courage failed her, and she rocked back up from the precipice, falling straight into Hunter’s arms.
“That’s just the start, lass,” he told her. “By the time I’m done, ye’ll lean back without a moment’s thought, and ye’ll feel as if ye’re soarin’.”
Nancy shook her head. “I don’t think I can.”
“Aye, ye can,” he said, more forcefully.
Instead of holding her tightly to him as she’d hoped he would, he took that moment to release her, and though his eyes didn’t leave hers, he backed away, toward the opposite side of the parapet.
