Page 8 of His Stubborn Mate
I was grinning when I threw myself from the horse and reached for her. I planted my hands on either side of her distended waist and lifted her, swinging her around.
“Dkaar, I’ve missed you!”
I heard—felt?—her sharp inhalation, and only when I gently placed her feet back on the ground did I realize she wasn’t smiling. Instead, she looked…pained?
My smile fell and my fingers flexed against her waist. It had been months since I’d seen her, and I likely had no right to touch her this way, much less call her endearments again. The beloved had just slipped out naturally. Was she uncomfortable with my nearness?
And if so, why couldn’t I seem to unhand her?
“Cataline?” I murmured softly. “Ye are…” I ran my gaze down her body. “Well? Naught pains ye overmuch?”
She blew out the breath on a sound that was half a huff, half a laugh, the warm air misting in front of her as she pulled away and adjusted her shawl around her shoulders. Reluctantly, I allowed my hands to slide from her sides, watching her warily, praying for a welcome.
“I am ridiculously pregnant, Maardok. Everything pains me.”
There was humor there, but darkness too, and I remembered how much she’d endured since I’d seen her last. But if she wanted to make light of it…
I made a show of humming and studying her stomach, which she now held protectively. I could smell her nervousness, saw it in the way she carefully watched me inspect her, and I hated it.
“Ridiculously pregnant?” I teased. “How about overly pregnant? Outrageously pregnant?”
Her lips twitched. “Too pregnant, I think I could claim.”
I nodded firmly, as if conceding a point in an argument. “Aye, too pregnant.” I tried for a wink. “From the size of ye, I’d say twins?”
“Oh, God,” she groaned, one hand moving to the small of her back. “Do not wish that on me!”
I grinned again, helpless to prevent it now that I was in her presence, and realized I was reaching for her once more.
“Ye look healthy and strong, dkaar, and yer child will be as well.”
Something shifted in her expression, that wariness back again, but she didn’t pull away when my hands landed on her waist once more. I couldn’t seem to stop touching her, but…but her head was tipped back, that lovely dark hair wisping about her pale forehead, making her look somehow more delicate and wan despite what I had said about her strength.
She was alone here with no one to protect her, care for her. She clearly wasn’t eating as much as she should, and her worry ate at her. I would do what I could in the sennight before the veil opened and I had to be at the stones to pass through to my world.
Ye could take her with ye.
The whispered idea was…tempting. But my Cataline was stubborn and would do naught she didn’t want to do. I would have to convince her. In my world, I could care for her until her bairn was born, and the Battleborn midwives would ensure she was healthy afterward too.
But the way she was looking at me now…
Her lovely expression hadn’t shifted. She was still watching me with something like trepidation as she chewed on the inside of her cheek. Her brown eyes flickered across my face, and I swear I felt them caress my scars.
Which is when I saw her flinch, and my chest tightened with sudden fear, my Kteer whining softly.
Nine months ago, she hadn’t seemed to mind my scars. They covered the left side of my face, pulling my mouth into a permanent scowl, lowering my left eyelid… I was considered fearsome even among my kind, and most humans cowered from me.
But Cataline had accepted me.
Was it because of my gold coin, as John the tavern keeper had claimed?
“Cataline?” I murmured, half-desperate to stay here with her, even for only a few days. Desperate to care for her. “What is wrong, lass?”
All at once, she blew out a breath and twitched her lips into a wry, not-entirely-convincing smile.
“Naught is wrong, Maardok.” She raised her hand, her bare palm cupping my cheek—my scars. “I am glad to see you.”
I saw genuine warmth and welcome in her eyes, but I couldn’t forget her hesitation. Or John’s claims.
