“Cree is easy to love,” Wintra insisted in defense of her brother. Even though she was still angry with him for sticking her in the abbey, she still loved him and always would. “He is the most wonderful brother and many may fear him, and well they should for he is a fierce warrior, but I am the only one who truly knows his nature.”
“I would say that my sister knows him better than you, for she—”
“She cannot know him as well as I do,” Wintra argued. “Besides how can she know him so well if she cannot even talk with him?”
“When you meet her you will understand, and when you see Cree and her together you will see love at its strongest.” He gave a glance at the fish. “It appears our supper may be ready.” He stood to go check on the fish.
Wintra found herself annoyed. No one could know her brother better than she did. She and Cree had always been close—or was that no more? Had these years that separated them changed everything? Or was it that he found someone to love and his sister did not matter to him anymore? The thought made her heart hurt. Cree was all the family she had; she could not lose him.
The thought came swift like an arrow to her heart. He could wed her off to someone and send her away, and she would never see him again. Would he do that? He had deposited her in the abbey, and she had not believed he would. No amount of him insisting that it was for the best, for her protection, had made a difference. She had cried for days and she had cried each time he had come to visit her and would leave her there yet again.
Would she return to him only to have him send her away again?
Another thought hit just as hard. Trust. She had always trusted Cree. Never had she feared him or doubted his word. He had never given her any reason to, so why would she question that he would now? He loved her and that would never change. Trust. She trusted Cree and she would not let anything damage that trust, not even her anger.
Conversation was limited as they ate since both were hungry and the fish delicious. When they finished and everything cleared away, Wintra rinsed her hands in the warm bucket of water she had kept for herself and offered Torr use of it, which he accepted. He liked the subtle sweet scent that lingered around her, and not quite so much the fish scent that stuck to his hands.
Exhaustion was quickly claiming Wintra, her yawns coming ever more frequently, and the bed looking ever more inviting.
It was Torr who suggested, “Time we get some sleep.”
“I could not agree more. My bones are even tired.”
“Then it is a good night’s sleep you need.”
Wintra wasn’t thinking of anything but sleep. She ached all over and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and snuggle against Torr to stay warm. The thought sent a quick spark shooting through her, though it faded just as quickly. She was simply too tired to think of anything but sleep.
Torr watched her walk over to the bed, prepared with their blankets. He expected her to drop into bed, her weary eyes closing as soon as her head touched the lumpy mattress. So he was surprised when she stopped beside the bed and started wiggling oddly. It took a moment for him to realize that she was attempting to get out of her torn dress beneath her shift.
He recalled then how he had had to rip it to get it off her. Then he recalled the feel of her naked body and how her skin was as soft as the finest wool. He thought to go help her, but he feared if he started touching her, he wouldn’t stop. It was when she struggled to free her one arm that got stuck in the sleeve that he could not just sit there any longer. He went to help her.
“It is stuck too deep, too tight,” she said on a sigh.
Where he would love to be—stuck too deep, too tight—inside her. He had to shake the thought away and concentrate on helping her and getting her to bed, though he did not intend on joining her. It would be much too dangerous for him to slip in bed with her now. He was already hard just from the images dancing in his head. He did not need to add to his torment.
He gently got her arm free and stepped away from her leaving her to finish the task, though when the torn garment pooled at her feet he grew that much harder and had to turn away from her.