Chapter 10
Elin lay on her back in bed, Keir’s jacket wrapped around her, comforting her with the lingering remnants of his scent.
Every time her eyes fluttered closed, she saw the day over.
The way he’d stormed off when he thought Stephen was flirting.
The feeling of his calloused fingers against hers.
The fury that had shone in his eyes when he’d defended her from those awful men, and the way his whole being had changed when he’d protected her.
He’d been terrifying, a dark fey creature or an avenging angel.
She let out a soft sigh and pulled the jacket tighter around her, wondering to herself why, when faced with such a fierce protector, she had felt safer than she had ever felt in her life.
The image of his face swam in her mind, stubbornly refusing to leave no matter what she tried.
Frustrated, she clambered out of bed and paced back and forth across the floor of the cabin, her bare feet cold and sore but almost unnoticed.
She was exhausted, Briana had been right about that, and yet though her body sagged, her mind jolted like lightning flashing through her skull.
Sleep would not come, and the more she tried, the worse it was getting.
She wanted to think it was from the adrenaline of the events of the day or from the excitement of learning stealth or maybe even some ongoing bitterness and resentment about being kept as a captive by these men who she kept trying to tell herself they were still her enemies.
But that wasn’t why, and she knew it, and that only took her rest even further away.
What would the other men say when Keir told them what had happened that day? Would they treat her as kindly as he had? She shook her head at that thought, wondering at her own use of the word kind. Who was she to even judge on the kindness of men? She had known so many through the years.
She’d believed Eamon kind, hadn’t she? He loved her, didn’t he?
Yes, his friends were sometimes brutes, and Eamon fitted in well with them.
Yes, he was firm about who was in charge and he had excuse after excuse about why she should give herself to him but could not yet be his wife.
And yes, he had allowed her to be mocked and touched and…
And…
The door creaked open in the pitch darkness, and Elin spun toward it.
How many nights had Eamon and his friends shown up at her door unannounced, the door creaking open, their demands the only thing that mattered?
Her tired, frustrated mind clouded over with a hot rage as a dark figure appeared in the doorway and she swung hard with her hand, connecting with the flesh of a stubbled cheek with an audible smack.
It was a hard enough slap that the figure staggered back a little, and Elin’s hand smarted as she pulled it back.
Moonlight and cold air illuminated the scene and broke through the clouds in Elin’s mind, snapping her back to the present. There was no Eamon, no Grant man at all. Of course there wasn’t. Instead, Keir stood there, his hand to his cheek, his eyebrows raised and a strange expression on his face.
Horror flooded through Elin as she realized what she had just done. She could feel her blood pulsing under the skin of her hand in time with the rush of embarrassment to her cheeks. “Keir. I… I…oh, God almighty, I’m so sorry! I just—I—”
But then Keir chuckled. “I probably deserved it,” he said ruefully in a way that twinged at her heart strangely. “Though perhaps next time a greetin’ before ye attack me, aye? I like tae face me opponents head-on.”
Elin’s skin prickled as Keir stepped closer. Without fully realizing what she was doing, she pulled the jacket more securely around her. “I didnae ken it was… I didnae mean…”
But as her eyes adjusted to the light of the moon as it traveled back down to the horizon and she could see him more clearly, she realized that he could see her too.
His eyes focused on her own first, then flicked down to her hands.
Keir’s lip pressed together, and Elin suddenly realized what he was seeing. Not her hands, but her jacket.
His jacket.
“Are ye cold?” he asked, no tone in his voice at all. His hair shadowed his face now that he had tilted his head down, and it was impossible to know exactly what he was thinking.
If she had been embarrassed before, it was nothing to what Elin felt now.
She wished that the ground would open beneath her, swallowing her into its maw.
How could she explain this? How could she tell him that this jacket had become her comfort, keeping her warm and safe at night even when the world felt like the greatest danger?
How could she tell him that the scent of him had become the aroma of warmth?
“I’m sorry. I meant tae give ye it back a while ago. I just got cold, I suppose, but aye, it’s yers, and I’ll take it off—” The whole time she was babbling, she was trying to shrug the jacket from her shoulders, but somehow she kept getting tangled in the too-long sleeves.
Keir reached out and touched her upper arm, stilling her with only the lightest of contact. He stepped a little closer again, not dropping his hand. “Keep it. It suits ye better anyway. And it does get awfully cold in this wee cabin at night.”
Elin’s breath stuttered. She opened her mouth, either to refuse or to thank him, but neither came out.
Instead, she just stared, open-mouthed, her whole body tingling in anticipation for something she didn’t know she was waiting for.
She moved a little closer, leaning into his touch.
She thought that she heard Keir’s breath catch, but it could have just been the wind.
“I got ye somethin’,” he told her, his voice lower and more rough than it had been just a moment before.
He waited, but Elin still couldn’t bring herself to move or speak.
Keir looked up and met her eyes again, then his hand slid down her arm, achingly slowly, leaving a hot trail through the fabric of the jacket.
Softly, so, so slowly, he reached her hand, gently lifting it until it was in the tiny space between them.
With his other hand, he pressed something into her palm, then drew slightly back.
Elin tried not to feel bereft at the sudden absence of his skin against hers.
She swallowed hard and looked down at the object, her heart thundering so loudly that it was as though a storm had erupted in her heart.
She already knew from the feeling of it what she would see there, but still she could not quite believe it until she looked down and saw the bobbin of thread and the shining needle in her hand.
It took her a moment before she was able to speak.
“I tried tae flee, even after I swore I wouldnae,” she whispered.
It felt wrong to talk too loudly now, as though it would break something precious and fragile if she did.
“Ye could have come after me immediately. And yet… and yet ye went back and got this for me regardless. Why would ye do such a thing?”
Keir shrugged. “It felt right. What other reason do I need?” he asked.
His voice was a whisper too. Did he feel it?
The delicate something that had built up around them, was it affecting him too?
He raised a hand and gently tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, and the brush of his knuckle against her cheek elicited a tiny gasp from her lips.
His widening eyes immediately focused on her mouth, and he audibly swallowed. He didn’t drop his hand from her face, and slowly, he looked up to look into her eyes once more. She met his gaze, her blood singing, her heart stuttering, and wondered what it would be like to touch him too.
What if she brushed his cheek and soothed the pain of the hit she had given him?
What if she pressed her lips against his skin as thanks for the gift?
What would happen if she broke the tenuous silence and allowed it to splinter around them?
“Thank ye,” she breathed. “What can I do in return?”
Keir leaned closer, his lips at her ear, his cheek brushing against hers. “Ye deserve nice things without owin’ the world for it, Elin,” he murmured. His breath was warm against her skin, and Elin closed her eyes, struggling not to surrender entirely.
But what if she did?
“Keir…” she whispered. She raised her hand gently, tentatively, and touched his arm.
The effect was immediate. The silence shattered and fell away at their feet as Keir pulled back abruptly.
He stepped back, placing the gap firmly back between them, and his expression returned to the neutrality that he had worn before.
“Ye should sleep,” he said. He did not speak loudly, but it sounded like a thunderclap after the quiet that had grown between them.
“There’s nae much time until dawn, and that’s when yer trainin’ will begin. ”
Elin swallowed. “Trainin’?” she asked, dazed. Then she collected herself. Whatever had happened, it was over. Thank goodness it hadn’t gone any further. She had begged for this training, and she would not let the opportunity slip by. “I mean…aye. I’ll see ye at dawn.”
Keir’s eyes burned into hers for just a moment, then he gave a sharp nod. “As ye say,” he agreed. Then he turned and walked away, closing the door behind him and leaving Elin alone with his jacket and the lingering scent of him.
Elin woke again before the first ray of sunlight blessed the horizon.
She’d only slept a few hours, and yet she felt more awake and alert than she had in a long time.
Humming to herself, she slipped out of bed and reached for her new needle and thread, working by candlelight to mend her skirt until dawn arrived and brought natural light with it.
She dressed quickly when she finished her work, gently blew out the candle, and gently tucked the needle and thread away, wrapped in Keir’s jacket.