Page 57 of Highland Seduction

On the other hand, as Tor reminded her, the priest had lied about his purpose here. And so she supposed Tor’s vigilance was warranted. Though she did not believe, as he apparently did, the priest would jump out at them from one of the dark alleyways they passed. Even if he was somehow tied to Ian and Marta, he’d not likely know they were planning to board a ship to France this morn.

Ainsley smelled the docks before she saw them. As they got closer, there were more sounds than in the streets too. In fact, as she and Tor turned a corner and the ships came into view, it seemed as if they were in an entirely different world.

“’Tis alive,” she said.

Tor chuckled. “That it is.” When he stopped, she did so too. Tor was looking at her curiously.

“Should we no’ be along?”

“Aye.” He pulled her into him, kissed her quite thoroughly, and then pulled away. “We should.”

She stopped him before they could continue walking.

“Something is amiss?” Ainsley asked.

“Nay, it is no’. I just . . .” He tilted his head back and then peered down at her. “I am unaccustomed to having a wife, ’tis all.”

“Ye’ve no’ grown used to it these past days?”

“After so many years walking alone?” He lifted their joined hands. “This is new to me. Being able to kiss ye in the streets, also new. Knowing when we are finished here that I will strip every piece of clothing from that lovely body and make love to ye all eve . . .” He shrugged. “I did no’ expect to enjoy being a husband.”

She smiled. “But ye do?”

“Aye, lass. I do.”

Then say ye love me.

They’d been forced to marry as enemies but had not been so for some time. They were remaining married. Those words meant less than Tor’s actions, and by that standard, she knew he loved her. Still, something held her back from saying the words first.

Every day Tor fetched her food as they broke their fast in the room. They walked like this, hand in hand, made love all eve, and spent more time telling stories to each other than Ainsley had with anyone in her life.

Tell him.

But she did not. Just because he was her husband did not mean Tor was obliged to love her. He had told the bishop they wished to remain married, but . . .

“Faucon Dieu,” he murmured, pulling on her hand. Tor stopped, asked for the ship, and they were pointed in the right direction.

Though the sun had not yet risen, ships were being loaded. Passengers began to stream onto the docks and ships’ captains yelled orders to their men. Most were fishing vessels, it seemed, and others, cargo vessels. But the one they walked upon now was neither.

The Faucon Dieu was etched into the side of the wooden ship. Its captain stood on the deck, the man clearly in charge by the way he spoke to his men.

“Stay here,” Tor said, making his way confidently across the plank and onto the ship as if he belonged there. No matter the situation, her husband navigated it as if he was born to do so. For a man who’d lost his father at an early age, she marveled, he was remarkably competent in, well, everything.

Adair must have been quite a man. Royce was, Ainsley knew, even if she had pretended otherwise. Seeing him as her brother-in-law, and not the laird of an enemy clan, gave some of the stories she’d heard of him new life.

As Tor spoke to the captain, he caught Ainsley’s eye. And winked.

If there was any doubt before—and there was none—the way that wink had made her wish to sink into the dock like a lovesick maid told her for certain that she was madly, unequivocally, in love with her husband.

And she would tell him. Tonight. Even though the thought made her insides spin, and not in a good way, like when Tor looked at her. It was more the same feeling she had thinking of that night in the woods. As if she were powerless.

Live as if there may no’ be a tomorrow.

A morbid thought, aye. But she understood Tor’s meaning.

“None are aboard the ship yet,” he said. Ainsley had not even realized Tor had recrossed the gangplank. “He knows no’ the names of those who’ve secured passage, but did admit he will carry twelve people on his ship to France. Two of them . . .” Tor smiled. “Are Marta and Ian.”

“Indeed,” she said, looking for a place they could move to as the docks became more and more crowded.