Page 95 of Fang & Fury

“Hear me out, mo chridhe.” He paused, marking the faint blush that rose to her cheeks. My heart. It wasn’t the first time he’d used that endearment. Last time, he’d had her pinned up against a tree, had been buried deep inside her. He hadn’t forgotten, and neither had she. “Let me just say this.”

Her lips pursed, yet she held her tongue.

“For years, my hatred for Niall was the only thing keeping me going,” he began. “It fueled me like meat and ale … it was all that I cared about. Even when we left Craeg Aonaranach, revenge still drove me forward. Sure, I wanted to warn Lara … and I marked your concern for the Circines … but my reckoning always came first.” He broke off then, squeezing her hands. “I don’t feel that way any longer though … and that’s because of you.”

Ailsa stared back at Darach. His tawny eyes held her fast. Dizziness rushed over her then, a sense that she was losing control of this conversation. “You give me too much credit,” she replied huskily. “Maybe that bavaan hill had something to do with it. Fern said—”

“I know she told us such places can alter how we see things,” he interrupted her. “But it wasn’t that place … it was you. Your compassion. Your strength. Watching you on the way here made me realize that you deserve better than a petty bastard who clings to the past … and so do the people of Braewall. If I’m ever to take the crown, I want to be worthy of it.” He paused then. “And of you.”

Ailsa’s breathing caught.

Curse the man, why did he have to say things like that—things that reminded her why she’d fallen so hard for him?

“Let me say it plain,” he said then, his voice roughening further. “When—if—I take the throne, I want you at my side, Ailsa.”

She started to sweat. The Warrior’s cods.

Cutting her gaze away, she focused instead on the glowing brick of peat in the hearth. “You don’t understand,” she said after a moment. “Stone walls. Ceremony. Expectations. Just the thought of it all makes my skin itch. Maybe the bavaan makes me restless … I don’t know … but I’m not cut out to be a queen” —heat rolled over her. Shit. Now she really was putting the cart before the pony— “or whatever, I’d be.” She swallowed. “I’m a wild thing, Darach.”

He didn’t reply straight away. Instead, he reached out and gently took hold of her chin, drawing her attention from the fire so she met his eye. “We’re both wild things, love,” he replied gently. “There isn’t a soul alive who understands me as you do.” His expression sobered then. “I swear I’ll never cage you. If the walls start closing in, talk to me. I’m here.”

Their gazes locked, and something clicked into place. An understanding she’d been grasping for yet only just caught. “Maybe the walls aren’t the only problem, Darach,” she answered. “This time last year, I was living in Braewall, ignorant of who I was. In the last six moons, so much has happened. I’m barely keeping up. And this” —she gestured between them— “overwhelms me.” She broke off then, suddenly breathless from letting the words rush out of her. “I’m still figuring out who I want to be … and until I do, I can’t make any promises about the future.”

He held her gaze, his own unwavering. “I’m not asking you to,” he murmured. “Just don’t shut me out.”

“Damn you,” Ailsa ground out eventually, her voice catching. “Why do you always talk me around?”

His lips curved into that cocky smile she knew so well. “Because I’m a sneaky bastard.”

With that, he drew her toward him, off her stool, and onto his lap. Then, reaching up, he cupped her cheek with one hand, while the other splayed possessively across the small of her back. “Take all the time you want, mo chridhe … I’ll wait.”

She swallowed. He would too; the glint in his golden-brown eyes was a promise.

Moments passed, and she became acutely aware of the strength and warmth of Darach’s body against her. She slid her hand across his shoulder, over the leather vest, resting above his heart, to feel the steady beat of it.

Her senses sharpened then. Her nostrils flared.

She could smell him more keenly than before, catching the metallic scent of his blood pumping beneath his skin.

She didn’t fight it. She just let it flow over her—and it passed.

Meeting his eye once more, she sighed. “You’re not a man to choose the easy path, are you?”

Darach favored her with another sensual smile of his that made her belly tighten. “Easy is boring.”

They stared at each other for an instant longer.

And then, she lowered her head and kissed him.

It started slow and sensual. She explored his mouth. He tasted faintly of wine.

Her hands slid up over his shoulders, threading through his thick hair as she leaned in, deepening the kiss now, sliding her tongue against his.

And when Darach groaned loudly, her heart started to pound.

It had only been a few days since they’d lain together, but she ached for him.

His assurances hadn’t chased away all her doubts, but they had made her realize what she’d been doing—trying to control the impossible. It was hard to let go, but she had to.