Page 96 of Owned by the Scarred Laird

“Told me what?”

“Naught ye daenae already ken.” He looked down at their joined hands rather than at her face. “I’ve been struck before, Chloe. By worse men than him, in worse rooms than that clearin’. None of it ever hollowed me out the way watchin’ that blow land on ye did. Nae the beatings. Nae the years after, learnin’ to survive on me own with naught but Tyler and a burned-out keep to me name. Nae even the night on the stairs. That moment in the clearin’ was the worst thing that’s ever happened to me, and it didnae even happen to me own body.”

“Edward.”

“Let me say the rest of it, or I will lose the nerve.”

His jaw worked once, the old habit, but he did not let it close him off this time, forced the words past it instead.

“I’ve believed, since I was young enough that I cannae properly remember believin’ anything else, that carin’ for someone is what makes a man dangerous. Me father cared for somethin’, once, before the drink took the whole of him.”

He paused. “I daenae ken what, exactly, but I’ve always thought it must have broken in him first, before it turned to what it turned to. So I built me whole life around never lettin’ it happen to me. Never lettin’ anyone close enough that losin’ them could break me the same way. I told meself that was strength. Keepin’ ye at arm’s length, keepin’ William at arm’s length, near enough. I told meself it was protection. Yers, nae just mine.”

“It felt like punishment.”

“I ken that now.” He finally lifted his eyes back to hers. “It wasnae punishment I meant it as. It was fear wearin’ punishment’s clothes, because fear’s an ugly thing and I didnae ken how to let ye see it plain, so I dressed it up as distance instead, and called the distance yer fault when it wasnae ever yers to carry.”

Chloe said nothing for a moment, letting the fire fill the silence instead, watching the raw honesty sitting on his face without the armor he usually wore over it.

“I cannae promise ye I will be easy,” Edward said, quieter now. “I’ve thirteen years of practice at pullin’ away the moment somethin’ matters too much, and I daenae ken how a man unlearns that in a day, or a month, or maybe even a year. There’ll be days the old habit wins. Days I go quiet when I should speak, or cold when I should reach for ye instead.”

His hand tightened around hers. “But I am tellin’ ye, Chloe, I mean to learn. To trust ye with the whole of it, nae just the parts that are easy to hand over. To trust meself beside ye, which is the harder thing by far. And on the days retreat feels easier than stayin’, I mean to stay anyway. That’s the whole of what I’ve got to offer ye. It isnae perfect. It’s the truth, though.”

Chloe studied him for a long moment. The same face that had frightened her in that distillery. The same face that had stood over her in a clearing with a blade in its hand and killed a man to protect her, and now, stripped of all that, with nothing left between them that either of them was still pretending not to feel.

She reached up and laid her palm against his cheek.

He went still beneath it, but this time the stillness lacked the old caution, the tension of bracing for a blow he expected to absorb alone. This time, he let her hand rest there, rough stubble under her palm, warm despite the chill lingering in the room. He closed his eyes for half a second, like a man finally letting go of something heavy he had carried for too long.

“Edward.”

“Aye.”

“Stop talkin’ now.”

She leaned forward before he could decide whether that was an order or an invitation, and kissed him.

He did not move at first. One full breath of silence, his hand still wrapped around hers, his entire body tense with the effort of not trusting the moment enough to let himself fall into it. Then something inside him finally gave way all at once, the same way it had in the sea cave, but this time more slowly, without urgency or fear of interruption.

His free hand came up to the back of her neck, careful of the ache still sitting in her shoulders, and he kissed her back like a man who’d finally stopped counting the reasons he should not.

It went on for quite a while. Neither of them hurried it. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, both of them breathing more heavily than the stillness of the room seemed to explain, and for a moment, neither of them said anything at all.

“Ye’re meant to be restin’,” Edward said, eventually, though he made no move to put any distance between them.

“I’ve rested most of the afternoon.”

“Beathag will have me head, if she comes back and finds ye sittin’ up kissin’ me instead of sleepin’.”

“Then daenae tell her.” Chloe let her hand slide from his cheek down to rest against his chest instead, feeling the steady, unhurried beat of his heart under her palm. “Stay, though. However long ye’re able.”

“I wasnae plannin’ on goin’ anywhere.” He settled back into the chair, though this time he kept her hand in his, resting on the edge of the mattress between them. “I have nay intention of leavin’ this room tonight, Chloe. Nor any night soon, if I have any say in the matter.”

“Ye have a say in it.” She kissed him again, and this time he kissed her back properly, careful of the ache still sitting in her shoulders, one hand coming up to rest against the back of her neck instead of pulling her closer.

29

His mouth claimed hers, and Chloe melted against him. This was different from the chaste kisses they had shared before—this was hunger, raw and demanding. Edward’s tongue swept inside, tasting, exploring, claiming. His hands slid down her back, pressing her closer until she could feel the hard ridge of his manhood through the layers of their clothing.