Raeliksen

“We must get you warm.” Dægan slid from his horse, landing on both feet. His arms reached for her and without hesitation she wrapped herself around his neck, evidently too cold to care what protective limbs she was enveloped in. He smiled for she was like a little child burying her head against his neck, contrary to the fiery vixen from yesterday’s affair. He leaned his head toward her, feeling the warmth of her breath and savoring the petal soft lips upon his neck. He truly didn’t want to let go of her, but her shivering broke the moment, bringing him back from his heavenly Valhalla.

He shifted her weight to one arm while he untied the hide with the other, shaking it out to cover her. “Take off your wet clothes and then you can have my cloak.”

She reacted as if his words seared through her like a red hot brand. “I most certainly will not!”

“You cannot get warm in sodden clothing,” he proclaimed.

“I will do no such thing!” she said, jumping from his arms and keeping the hide for herself.

“Listen, princess,” Dægan retorted, beginning to take off his belt and boots. “You, above all, should know this rain will be holding us here for many hours, if not days. I am not going to sit in wet, uncomfortable clothes when I have perfectly dry blankets at my disposal. And I suggest you follow my lead.”

Mara hadn’t long to contemplate Dægan’s sudden foul language or his candid advice before he had completely disrobed.

“Oh, my goodness!” she gasped, turning her head away from his nakedness.

“You might as well get used to it, my lady. Soon you will be seeing me this way every night.”

“I will not!” Mara argued over her shoulder.

“Will you close your eyes to me even on our wedding night?”

“You are a stupid heathen of a man!” she retorted. “How can you possibly think that I will want to marry you?”

“I felt the tides turning last night—and so did you.”

“Nonsense!”

“Your problem is that you hardly trust yourself. You despise that you gave in to me so quickly, and for that you question your own good sense. Your heart is talking to you but you won’t listen. You are denying yourself the chance to find love, a love that is different, foreign, and well beyond your dreams. I saw how you would gaze upon the river waters in Connacht, looking further than its shores, wishing for something greater. And now ‘tis here in front of you, yet you fear the possibility of its wonder because ‘tis simply not what your father wants. Tell me Mara, what do you want?”