Chapter 17 — The Kiss That Was a Mistake
The argument began before breakfast.
Alexander wanted to postpone their journey.
Amara did not.
After the storm, the road remained difficult, one of Alexander's men had injured his shoulder during the pirate attack, and reports from the harbor suggested armed strangers had recently been asking questions about travelers matching Amara's description.
To Alexander, waiting one day was common sense.
To Amara, it was another delay between her and home.
“We leave today.”
“We leave when it is safe.”
“It may never be safe.”
“Then we make it safer.”
Amara turned away from him. “You promised to help me reach my father's people.”
“I am helping you.”
“By stopping me?”
“By keeping you alive.”
That sentence had become increasingly irritating.
She faced him again. “You don't get to decide everything because you're worried about me.”
“And you don't get to ignore danger because you're impatient.”
“Impatient?”
Alexander realized immediately that he had chosen the wrong word.
Amara's expression hardened.
“I was kidnapped, carried across an ocean, sold, and separated from my family. Forgive me if waiting comfortably while other people decide what happens next has lost its appeal.”
Alexander's anger disappeared almost as quickly as it had come.
But Amara was not finished.
“You keep saying I'm free, yet whenever I make a decision you dislike, suddenly you become Captain Whitmore and give orders.”
“That isn't fair.”
“Isn't it?”
“No. If you were anyone else, I would still tell you not to ride directly toward men who may be trying to capture you.”
“But I am not anyone else.”
“I am painfully aware of that.”
Silence.
Amara narrowed her eyes.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Alexander should have stopped.
Instead he said, “It means you have occupied practically every peaceful moment of my life since you arrived.”
She stared at him.
“Then perhaps you'll be relieved when I leave.”
The words landed harder than either expected.
Alexander's face changed.
Amara immediately wished she could take them back, but pride kept her silent.
Finally he said, “Perhaps.”
She walked away.
For most of the morning, they avoided each other.
Amara helped prepare supplies while Alexander arranged additional protection for the journey. They spoke only when necessary and never looked at each other longer than required.
By afternoon, the weather had improved.
They would leave the following morning.
Amara should have been pleased.
Instead she was furious.
Mostly with herself.
She walked beyond the inn toward a rocky overlook above the sea. The wind was strong, but the sky had cleared, and sunlight spread across the water.
Home was somewhere beyond that horizon.
She had spent weeks dreaming about returning.
So why had Alexander's single word hurt?
Perhaps.
She heard footsteps behind her.
She did not turn.
“I don't want company.”
“Good. I didn't come to entertain you.”
Alexander.
Of course.
“You seem to have difficulty understanding when you're unwanted.”
“So do you.”
She turned.
“Did you follow me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because disappearing alone after everything that happened yesterday seemed like another excellent decision.”
The anger returned instantly.
“I walked two hundred yards.”
“Without telling anyone.”
“I don't report my movements to you.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
Alexander stopped several feet away.
“Yes.”
That answer weakened the argument, which annoyed her even more.
“Then go back.”
“No.”
Amara laughed bitterly. “There it is.”
“What?”
“Captain Whitmore giving another order.”
“I didn't give an order.”
“You said no.”
“I learned from an expert.”
She almost smiled.
She refused to allow it.
Alexander moved beside her and looked toward the sea.
For a while neither spoke.
Finally he said, “I shouldn't have said perhaps.”
Amara kept her eyes on the horizon.
“No.”
“I don't want you to leave.”
That made her turn.
Alexander continued before courage deserted him.
“I want you to find your family. I want you free. I want you home. But those things are not the same as wanting you gone.”
Amara's anger disappeared.
“Alexander…”
“I know.”
“No, you don't.”
“Then explain it.”
She shook her head.
How could she explain something she did not understand herself?
Her life had been divided into two impossible desires.
She wanted home more than anything.
And she had begun dreading the day she would have to leave him.
“This is exactly why you are irritating,” she said.
Alexander blinked.
“That is your response?”
“Yes.”
“I tell you something painfully honest, and you insult me.”
“You make everything complicated.”
“I make things complicated?”
“Yes.”
“You stole my horse.”
“Borrowed.”
“You argue with my guests.”
“They deserved it.”
“You refuse instructions.”
“Usually for excellent reasons.”
“You nearly escaped with a horse that hates water.”
“That was your fault for owning such a ridiculous animal.”
Alexander stared at her.
Amara stared back.
And suddenly both were smiling.
It should have ended there.
It did not.
Alexander stepped closer.
Amara stopped smiling.
Neither spoke.
The sea crashed against the rocks below them. Wind moved through Amara's hair.
Alexander reached up slowly and moved one strand from her face.
He gave her every opportunity to step away.
She didn't.
“Tell me no,” he said quietly.
Amara's heart was pounding.
She had said that word to him dozens of times.
Now, when it mattered most, she couldn't.
Instead she whispered, “You're still infuriating.”
“I know.”
“And stubborn.”
“So are you.”
“This is probably a mistake.”
“Almost certainly.”
Then she kissed him.
It was supposed to be brief.
A moment of weakness.
Something they could immediately regret.
Instead, Alexander's arms went around her, and Amara forgot every sensible reason she had for stopping.
The kiss deepened.
Weeks of arguments, restrained glances, unfinished moments and feelings neither had wanted to name suddenly had nowhere else to go.
For a few seconds there was no kidnapping, no Rourke, no royal family searching across an ocean.
Only Alexander.
Only Amara.
Then reality returned.
Amara stepped back first.
Both were breathing harder than they should have been.
“That,” she said, “was a mistake.”
Alexander nodded immediately.
“A terrible one.”
“Exactly.”
“It cannot happen again.”
“Absolutely not.”
They stood facing each other.
“Good,” Amara said.
“Good.”
Neither moved.
Alexander looked at her mouth.
Amara noticed.
“Don't.”
“I didn't do anything.”
“You were thinking.”
“You've become remarkably skilled at reading my face.”
“Your face isn't subtle.”
Alexander smiled.
That was the problem.
Amara should have walked away.
Instead she remained exactly where she was.
“This is ridiculous,” she whispered.
“Completely.”
The second kiss was her fault too.
At least that was Alexander's version.
Amara would later insist he moved first.
Neither version was entirely reliable.
This kiss was different.
No surprise.
No hesitation.
Amara's hands moved to his shoulders while Alexander pulled her closer. She felt the warmth of him through his shirt, and for one dangerous moment she wanted the entire world to disappear.
Alexander broke the kiss this time.
He rested his forehead against hers.
“We are very bad at regretting things.”
Amara laughed softly.
“Apparently.”
“We should go back.”
“Yes.”
Neither moved.
“Amara.”
“Yes?”
“If we stay here another five minutes, we're going to make another mistake.”
She looked into his eyes.
“Then perhaps we should leave in four.”
Alexander laughed.
She finally stepped away.
They walked back separately enough to appear respectable.
At least they thought so.
Catherine was standing outside the inn when they returned.
She looked at Alexander.
Then Amara.
Then Alexander again.
Neither said anything.
Catherine smiled.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Amara immediately became suspicious.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I am enjoying the weather.”
“You never smile at weather.”
Alexander walked past his sister.
“Don't.”
“I haven't said anything.”
“And you're going to continue not saying anything.”
Catherine's smile widened.
Amara followed Alexander inside.
For once, the two of them were united completely.
Unfortunately, they were united in embarrassment.
That evening, Amara lay awake thinking about the kiss.
Both kisses.
She told herself they had happened because of fear, exhaustion and the intensity of the previous days.
It was a convincing explanation.
It was also nonsense.
Across the hall, Alexander was conducting an equally unsuccessful argument with himself.
He had violated the simplest rule available to him.
Do not fall in love with a woman desperately trying to return to another continent.
Especially when he still did not know exactly who she was.
Especially when dangerous men were searching for her.
Especially when she might disappear from his life within days.
Alexander stared at the ceiling.
The first kiss had been a mistake.
The second had confirmed it.
And the worst part was that if Amara walked through his door at that moment, he knew perfectly well what would happen.
He would make the same terrible mistake again.