Page 40 of The Guardian
“Err… I should put on a tunic,” he muttered, retreating to grab it from atop the trunk and pulled it over his head. The fabric felt like armor against feelings he hadn’t dared acknowledge in years.
“We best eat before it grows cold,” he said.
“It’s only enough for ye. I already ate.” She sipped the wine, avoiding his gaze.
He ignored her words, fetched a second bowl, and carefully served her a small portion before tearing off a chunk of bread to rest on top.
They ate in silence, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… peaceful. As if they’d sat together a thousand times before. Companions forged in something deeper than friendship.
“How’s yer wound?” she asked quietly. “Is it healing.”
“It is. Barely aches.”
She eyed the empty pot. “Would ye like more? I could fetch more.”
“No.” His voice was gentle but firm. “Ye dinnae need to serve me, Ailith. Ye’ve done more than enough.”
He’d seen her in the past days, carrying bandages to the wounded, pressing cool cloths to burning brows, never stopping, never resting. She moved like a woman with something to prove. Or perhaps something to atone for.
“Where are ye sleeping?”
Ailith gave a small shrug. “Here and there. Teller and I find a corner when we can.”
He frowned, and she rushed to add, “It’s fine. It’s what I want. I feel like… I need to… to make things right.”
Without thought, he reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold.
“Ailith, ye have mourned. Ye lost yer husband. And now ye’ve done much to help others. It’s time ye rested. Ye’ve more than paid for anything that ever was.”
Her shoulders slumped, and the tears came suddenly, silently, streaking her pale cheeks. “I’m so verra sorry. Please… Please forgive me.”
Hendry rose and gently pulled her up into his arms. She was far too light, too fragile, and trembling like a leaf. She buried her face in his chest, clutching at him as though he might keep her from falling.
It was guilt, he realized. She was drowning in it. And much too exhausted.
“I forgive ye, Ailith,” he murmured. “Ye are a good woman. A kind soul. Dinnae carry this any longer.”
He lifted her and carried her to the bed, laying her down gently and slipping off her shoes and then drew a blanket over her.
“Sleep now. I’ll be here to watch over ye.”
She blinked up at him, eyes red-rimmed, hopeful but uncertain. “Will ye hold me? Just… until I fall asleep?”
He hesitated only a breath before lying beside her, drawing her into the curve of his body. She nestled into him with a sigh, her cheek against his chest.
He soothed her like he had in another life, when they’d been together, before everything changed, his hand moving slowly down her arm.
“Sleep,” he whispered again.
A caress stirred Ailith from sleep, fingers trailing down her arm. The touch so tender, it brought tears to her eyes. There were too many if onlys to count, as her heart filled with hope that she could redeem herself in Hendry’s eyes.
He would be the only man she would ever love, and once back in her little cottage in the forest, it was this instance that would help her endure the lonely years to come.
Wishing to feel more of his heat, of his muscular body against hers, she snuggled closer and inhaled the smell of him. Masculine with a scent of what he’d used to bathe in, something herbal. She imagined the rustic cleansing bar moving across the hard planes of his chest, down his flat stomach, and then… She closed her eyes tighter, pushing away thoughts that had the strength to lure her into the depths of passion.
Already her breathing was coming in short gasps, telling him that she no longer slept. However, as his breath continued in a steady rhythm, it was possible he continued to sleep.
Pushing her luck, she stretched upward and pressed a kiss to the juncture of his jaw and neck. The pulsing of his heart steady against her lips.
