Page 46 of Merciful Salvation

“Whatever you call it doesn’t change his motivation,” Rachelle spoke more earnestly. “I’m sure you’ve been dishonest with him, too. Don’t waste your time worrying about something you cannot change. Consider the future—how you’ll proceed from this moment onward.”

“You speak from experience?”

“I do. There was a time I considered my husband the devil himself. How else do you imagine a Saxon came to be mistress here? Tyr kidnapped me.”

Kara gasped. “Kidnapped you?”

“Aye,” she confirmed. “We met under very sad conditions, in the aftermath of the Battle of Stamford Bridge. He survived and was waiting for the right time to escape, hiding amongst the dead. I happened upon him, in search of my uncle. I’d never met a more arrogant creature. But he saved my life and I don’t believe in coincidences. God placed him in my life. Weeks after I came here, the Normans conquered my homeland. I might have been raped or killed. Do you see providence in this?”

Her remarkable story didn’t absolve Aaron. Escaping death justified Tyr’s actions. So did the glow of love on Rachelle’s face. “I’m happy for you,” she finally said.

Jarl McNally had captured her attention at first glance. And their first kiss... it still made her breathless. What happened now depended on whether Aaron would apologize and open up to her the way she had with him.

The maid returned with a tray of food.

“Eat,” Rachelle urged. “Then I’ll escort you to the bathhouse.”

Two nights later, wearing a borrowed gown and slippers, Kara felt immensely better as she followed Rachelle to the great hall for the eventide meal. Her friend had generously shared her wardrobe. And after picking through a dozen gowns, she’d chosen a coral-colored silk with a scooped neckline. Tiny pearls were sewn along the bodice.

The moment Aaron saw her, his steely gaze swept her from head to toe. She smiled when he rose and pulled out the chair beside him. “You’re beautiful.”

Their arms brushed; the slightest contact making her skin tingle. After she sat, Kara reached for the wine, but he caught her hand midair. “Aren’t you too young for fermented drink?” he asked, displaying a wide grin.

“If I am, you can never make love to me again.”

He lifted her hand to his lips. “Your tongue is as sharp as this knife.” He held up his blade. “But I prefer my women to be a little feisty—a little mean spirited.”

“Women?” Kara frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Aaron said. “You didn’t mistake me for a virgin, did you?”

Not after all the naughty things he’d done to her. She closed her eyes and chewed on her bottom lip. Hopeless. She couldn’t stay mad at him if she wanted to. She opened her eyes.

“Rachelle is known for her feasts—there’s not a better mistress in the north.”

“She’s generous and kind.”

“Tis easy to be that way with you, Kara.” He simpered, running his fingers up her arm. “See how vulnerable you are to my touch? Primed for loving me.” Then he tugged at the lace on her bodice.

She slapped his hand away, intent on keeping a respectable distance between them. “I dislike your presumptuousness. I would sit andspeak with you as a lady should in public.”

He grunted. “You cannot undo what we shared in private.”

“Jarl McNally,” she said leaning in. “I have no regrets. But I won’t give these people something to gossip about.”

“I think it’s too late to worry about that.” He grinned and straightened his posture. “That little fight we had—”

“You upset me.”

“For good reason.”

“I disagree.”

She’d been forced time and again to do her father’s bidding without explanation. She refused to have the same kind of relationship with her lover. “Promise never to mislead me again.”

“Only if you agree to cooperate with me in the future.”

“What you ask is impossible. If I dislike something you say—”