Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 92771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Love.
He loved Amara, though it was more like she showed him how to love, how to release the anger inside him and embrace the feelings she had awakened in him, feelings he had never known possible. His life had been one of hardship, his mum dying in childbirth along with the bairn when he was ten years. His da didn’t wait long to find himself another wife and she made it clear that he was in the way, so his da sent him to live with his mum’s sister. She was kind enough to him, but it was obvious she and her family had little enough food for themselves. He did what he could, but he was more of a burden than helpful. He left and by sheer accident found himself with a band of mercenaries who taught him how to survive and fight. Fighting was his life until he met Amara.
She changed everything.
He thought about what Shade had said about talking about one’s nightmares. If he talked about them, it would only allow other memories to surface that would be even more difficult to recall than the nightmares themselves. After he lost Amara, he promised himself that he would never give his heart to another woman. He would never allow himself to love so deeply again. The pain was too unbearable.
He was attracted to Shade and would not mind sharing her bed while here and he did not think she would mind either. He could see the need in her eyes and since she was past her prime, he assumed she was no stranger to coupling. They both were alone, attached to no man or woman so why not enjoy each other while they could and part friends?
A stab of pain to his chest had him rubbing it and it annoyed him that it came when he thought of leaving Shade. He had felt it the last time, not a pain but a disturbance in him that he didn’t understand. He had a mission to accomplish, and he could let nothing stand in his way, especially a woman.
He returned with the bucket of water to the cottage to find porridge cooking and Bannock, a bread he favored. Nothing further was mentioned about his offer and Quint let it be. It was for her to decide, and, for now, he would say no more about it.
After the meal was done, Shade was busy clearing off the table, and Quint said, “I’m going to wander around the woods for a bit to make sure no one has camped nearby. I won’t be far off, if you should need me. Just yell out to me.”
Shade turned, bowls in her hands, to find him standing directly in front of her. He reached out and took her face in his hands and kissed her gently not once but twice and then his lips lingered a moment before he kissed her again.
“Your lips were made to be kissed,” he said, then went to the door, stopped, and turned. “By me.”
Shade stared at the closed door. Had he waited to kiss her with her hands full so she could not push him away? Would she have pushed him away? Didn’t she want to explore what was going on between them, the feelings she felt for him, the feelings he ignited in her? She closed her lips tight, sealing the kisses, keeping them close, then smiled without parting her lips.
Shade just sat oak cakes on the table when Quint returned. “They’re hot,” she warned when he went to snatch one up. “Let me have a look at your wounds while they cool a bit.”
He obliged her, taking off his shirt.
Shade did her best to ignore his muscled chest and arms and the gentle warmth of his skin and the earthly scent of the forest upon him. She had never been attracted to the scent of a man before. Most men she treated didn’t have a pleasant scent about them, not so Quint. His scent was alluring.
She forced herself to focus on his wounds. She had removed the sphagnum from his shoulder wound not long after he returned. She had applied a salve and kept it bandaged and it was healing remarkably well. The few stitches in his arm looked almost ready to be removed.
She looked the wounds over closely.
“What do you see there?” he asked.
“Your wounds are healing remarkably well. The shoulder wound was deep, though the bone untouched thankfully. The flesh has already healed over the bone and then some. And your stitches are nearly ready to take out, the wound almost entirely healed from within. I have never seen anyone heal so fast.”
“I have healed fast since I was young, but how can you know my wounds have healed from within if they have closed up?” he asked, curious.