He ignored her, crossed to the washstand, dampened a cloth in the water, her eyes never leaving him. “Here.” He offered it to her. “Fer yer face.”
She took it without a word, pressing the cool fabric to her flushed cheeks, her throat, the back of her neck. Gradually, her breathing slowed and the rigid tension in her shoulders eased.
“Feelin’ better?”
“A bit.” She lowered the cloth, fingers still clutching it.
“D’ye want me tae leave?” He asked gently, giving her the choice.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, biting that spot on her lower lip. “Nay, actually,” she finally whispered. “I… if ye wouldnae mind…”
All of Uist could burn tae ash and I wouldnae mind.
He moved toward the chair near the hearth, but her voice stopped him.
“Nae there.”
He turned back toward her. “Where d’ye want me then?”
She gestured toward the floor beside her bed. “Just… here. Beside me. If that’s all right.”
Ragnar’s heart kicked wildly against the confines of his ribcage. “Are ye certain?”
“I just...” she stared down at her hands. “I dinnae want tae be alone right now.”
He settled against the wall, the cold stone against his back. Above him, blankets rustled as she settled. Then—her hand slipped over the edge of the bed, her fingers calling for his in the darkness. Cool and trembling—seeking connection.
He curled his fingers around hers, thumb brushing across her knuckles, offering what little comfort he could through the simple contact.
“Thank ye,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “Fer bein’ here.”
“Ye dinnae need tae thank me, lass.”
“Why are ye bein’ so… kind?”
The question caught him off guard. “Should I nae?”
“I ken I’ve been naethin’ but difficult since we met.”
“Daesnae matter. Difficult or nae, ye’re goin’ tae be me wife.” He said quietly. “That means somethin’ tae me. And besides, beneath that sharp tongue of yers, ye’re scared. And alone. And I ken what that feels like.”
Her breathing had slowed now—exhaustion pulling at her. Ragnar wondered if she’d heard him as she started snoring softly, their hands still clasped together.
Outside the bedchamber, the guard changed. The keep’s bell marked the hour—distant and muffled. Dawn would come soon, and with it all the duties and complications that had no place in that quiet moment.
But for now, in the darkness, with her hand in his and her warmth beside him, Ragnar let himself imagine what it might be like if it could be more than duty, if she felt what he felt—if she reached for him like this every night.
Dangerous thoughts, those.
.