Chapter Thirty-One
Pale and shivering, she finally slept, curled in a pitiful ball beneath every plaid he’d been able to find in the snug little croft. Torin added another brick of peat to the fire and pulled the black iron lever toward the mark that she’d said would make the turf burn hotter.
He’d nearly lost her to the vicious storm kelpies. He’d detected the sound of victorious laughter of the Blue Men of the Minch over the raging wind. Torin knotted a plaid between his hands. He twisted the material until it nearly ripped as he watched the orange flickering flames devour the freshly added fuel. He’d singe the kelpie’s wicked arses with a righteous blaze the next time their paths crossed. By all the powers of the goddess, he’d turn the heartless water demons into clouds of harmless steam.
Torin lowered to his knees beside the couch, easing close enough to feel the warmth of her steady breathing brush against his skin. Her still damp hair curled in chaotic ringlets, tumbling across her shoulders. He wrapped a clinging tress around one finger and brought it to his lips.
Never again. Torin drew a deep breath. He’d promised he’d never let her go. An eternity of responsibility echoed in those words and weighed heavy on his mind. He didn’t belong in this world. Too much of what he’d once known had changed. Too much lost. He’d never rest easy in this time. And whether Emma realized the truth or not, neither would she.
Torin traced a finger down the velvet of her pale cheek, reveling in the relaxed peacefulness of her sleeping face. He had to convince her she belonged with him. Emma needed to realize her place.
With the barest of touches, he eased his arm across her, nestling his head close inside the curve of her body and snuggled against her stomach. He pulled another plaid across his weary body and breathed in the sweetness of her scent as he closed his eyes. His. She belonged to him. That’s all either of them need ever know.