but he had not. This calm control of his sometimes infuriated her for it usually meant he would have his way.
A warrior’s way.
Did he look prepared to battle?
The silent question irritated her for it reminded that it was she who was ready to battle, to defend against him. She could convince herself of it easily. There were signs; he stood blocking the door and any escape, his body was rigid, every muscle taut and prepared to attack.
But then she looked into his eyes and they told her a different story. There was a desperateness in them, a plea of sorts and an ache that—
Would you hear?
She felt a catch in her throat. Were her own words caught there? She cleared the lump as she said, “I will hear you.”
He walked to the center of the room, a few feet from her. “Will you? I know you have a right to doubt I speak the truth, but how will you ever know if you do not shed that heavy shield you keep around your heart?”
She stiffened in silence.
He took another step. “Nothing penetrates it, not truth, not passion, not love. How, then, can you truly feel anything? You tell me you wish to know love, and yet how do you expect love to pierce your defenses?”
She tightened her arms to her chest.
He approached her slowly. “You took on the burden of protecting you and your sister after your parents’ death. You refused to rely on anyone, trust anyone. How, then, could you think to love?”
His words were a direct hit to her heart. Where, then, was her shield?
“We are much alike, you and I, which is why I think we love so passionately. How it happened, when? I do not need to know. I only know that I love you. If you ask me why I love you—”
He shrugged and smiled. “I would give a different answer each time. At this moment I love you because you stand firm, unafraid to listen, your arms shielding your heart, your green eyes filled with uncertainty, your soft lips tempting me.”
He shook his head as he stopped a few inches from her. “I love you, Fiona. I know not how else to say it, but simply, and those three words I will say to you everyday of our lives together.”
He reached out and gently took her wrists, pried her arms away from her chest. “Marry me, Fiona. Marry me because I love you. Marry me because you love me.”
Her body was rigid from holding herself so stiffly, and she stumbled as he drew her into his arms.
“I will always be there to catch you if you should fall,” he whispered in her ear. “And I know you will do the same for me, for we love each other.”
A tear trickled down her cheek as she looked into his eyes and he kissed it away.
“I cannot promise I will kiss all your tears away, but I will promise that I will never make you cry and I will never let you cry alone.”
She did not hesitate to kiss him; she needed to kiss him, to know that this was not a dream. His lips were warm and welcoming and so very gentle.
He eased his lips away to say, “I love you, believe that I love you.”
A faint brush of his lips over hers had tingles racing through her and she eagerly captured his lips for a more fervent kiss.
As the kiss heated so did Fiona’s body and she grabbed at his tunic, wanting desperately to rip it off his body and feel his naked flesh.
She refused to end the kiss, her need for him growing more potent as their bodies pressed tightly to each other.
Finally Tarr grabbed the back of her wild red hair and yanked her head back, freeing their lips. “Keep this up, Fiona, and it will end in my bed.”
Her answer was to reach for his lips.
He gave them to her, grabbed her around the waist, she wrapping her legs around him as he carried her to the bed. They fell down upon it as one, she on top of him and he tugging at the ties to her blouse.
Her breast finally fell free and his mouth caught her nipple. She gasped, her head falling forward to rest on his forehead as he teased her nipple unmercifully with his tongue. Her hair fell around them, concealing the intimate act. She straddled him while he feasted at her bosom, sending a rush of