Chapter 11 #3
Keane did know what to say. His throat felt suddenly too thick to speak.
It only seemed like the right and natural thing to do, but when she put it that way, it made him feel as though he’d somehow overstepped his bounds…
or taken on responsibility he ought not.
“’Tis no more than I would do for any lass,” he reassured her.
“I see,” she replied, and the glassy look in her eyes vanished. She lifted up her berries, inspecting them closer with a look of disappointment in her amber eyes.
They could hear men chattering in the near distance, but here, the air was so still and thick Keane could cut it with a blade. “Those are whitebeams.”
“Yes, I know,” she said tightly, and Keane welcomed the icier tone, for he knew far better how to deal with her anger than he did her gratitude.
In fact, Lianae didn’t know.
She had never seen such bright red berries so full and bletted during the ides of winter. There were many such berries she recognized, but not this one.
It wasn’t his all-knowing attitude that perturbed her—or his officious demeanor. Rather, it was the notion that he did not particularly feel drawn to her… as she was to him.
Not since her family had been wrested from her so rudely had Lianae known such a gentle hand. Truth to tell, there was something about Keane that made her wish for things she ought not want—and yet she barely knew this man.
It was too easy to forget.
“They make a good tea to settle the belly,” he said matter of factly, dropping her bound foot, as though she were a child who’d needed help to dress.
Lianae was a woman grown, and yet he did not seem to notice this fact, and it annoyed her immensely. She was hardly the beauty Elspeth had been, but she wasn’t an ogre either. Some men thought her pretty, and some even said so.
Gruaidh may not be able to bear your children, nor is she quite so… pleasing.
Neither is your sister once she opens her mouth.
Lianae frowned, remembering William fitz Duncan’s words.
“Do you think me ugly?” she asked, before she could think to stop herself.
She had never learned how to be any other way, but direct—not even when it was clearly in her benefit to keep her mouth shut.
She should have learned that lesson from her dealings with the Earl, and yet… she must know.
Both Keane’s brows shot up, and his eyes nearly crossed. It might have been a comical sight, if Lianae hadn’t been waiting so breathlessly for his answer. “No,” he said after a moment, composing himself. “How do your feet feel?”
“Lovely,” she replied. Not nearly so battered as her ego.
Wrathfully, Lianae squished a berry between her thumbs, and then tossed the detritus away rather petulantly, thinking herself a silly little fool for considering such things as feelings, when only yesterday she had escaped a fate worse than death.
She plucked another berry and lifted it to her mouth to test it with her tongue. “Are they bitter?” she asked, sounding bitter herself.
Keane rose from his knees. “Sometimes.”
“This one is sweet,” she said, sliding the berry over her tongue.
“Is it?”
“Aye.”
He wrapped his hand about her wrist and gently tugged her up. “There’s a much better way to eat them,” he said.
Lianae dared to look Keane in the eyes. They were so green… as green as a new leaf in spring, and the black of his pupils were inordinately large—as deep and dark as Lilidbrugh’s well. If she leaned just a bit, she might fall deep inside and be irrevocably lost.
Plucking the entire bunch of berries from her hand, Keane pinched off a tiny piece of fruit, biting it gently, as though to test it for himself, never leaving her gaze. “Sweet,” he agreed, and then his lips turned up slightly at one corner.
Something about the look in his eyes gave Lianae a little start. Her heart kicked against her ribs as he leaned toward her, so slowly, staring intently into her eyes, as though she were a rabbit and he were a wolf, willing her to stay and be his prey.
She would do it, she realized.
He but needed to ask.
And then he pulled her close, offering Lianae the berry with his mouth, pressing her close until she parted her lips to receive the fruit. Once she did so, he pushed the juice and the berry deep into her mouth.
For a long moment, Lianae forgot to breathe.
His soft, warm tongue explored the depths of her mouth with barely restrained hunger, brushing softly across her trembling lips and then sliding across the ridge of her teeth. The sensation gave her a strange little quiver. Warmth filled her breast and slid… lower.
Never in her life had she felt such a heady, silvery warmth. It flowed into her most private regions like warm honey. The berry melted into the depths of her mouth, and after a moment, he pulled away, and looked her straight in the eyes.
“Lianae,” he whispered.
“Aye?”
“Did that seem to ye like a mon who thinks ye ugly?”
For a long, long moment, the world fell into a hush as the sound of her own blood rushed through her ears. Her heart pounded furiously.
A short distance away, she could hear the sound of laughter, the sound traveling from their camp. He gave her a playful wink. “Now let’s get some dinner,” he suggested.