Page 29 of A Wolf's Bargain
“Cillian, I—”
“Don’t need to explain,” he said with a rueful smile. “You’ve made it clear you don’t—”
Cora rushed forward, cutting him off with an angry huff. “For the love of God, will you let me finish? Just—give me a moment, will you?”
Cillian waited, fists clenched at his side, his erection still far too insistent to allow for good manners. Cora laced her trembling fingers together and inhaled. He’d noticed longago that her hands often shook when she was frightened or uncomfortable, but he’d never asked about it. She hid it well and didn’t seem keen to talk about it herself. As she breathed in and out, the shaking slowed until her body was still again.
Finally, she met his eyes and spoke. “I’m sorry.”
“For what, lass? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She shook her head and placed a hand on his chest, her face tilted downward. “There are things that are... difficult to talk about, but I feel I must. I want you to understand because I... well, I hope because you feel the same.”
Cillian hooked a finger beneath her chin, raising her gaze to meet his. “Whatever it is you need to say, say it.”
“I didn’t want to marry you.”
Oh. Well, that stung, didn’t it? He’d known—of course he had. She’d offered herself in exchange for his protection for her people. They were hardly a grand romance in a fairy tale. He supposed he hadn’t been overjoyed with the situation himself at first, but he’d warmed to it—and to her. Obviously, she didn’t feel the same. The wolf whined in the back of his mind.
His expression must have given him away. Cora shook her head and wrung her hands. “I’m saying this all wrong, aren’t I? I only meant that, at the beginning, I was afraid. I didn’t want to marry you—I didn’t want to marry anybody! But it was all I had to give, and I was desperate. I told myself that the stories about you were fancy and rumors, but then they weren’t stories! They were real, and you were real, and I was so afraid, Cillian. And then, before I could blink, we were married, and we... we... I hadn’t thought I’d like it. Not with anyone, but especially not with you. But I did, and that frightened me too! I’m frightened of everything if you haven’t noticed. And then, the very next morning, you pulled away. You only spoke when you had to. You avoided me if you could. Left me on my own for days after. I didn’t know what to think. All I knew was that I’d married a manwho could become a creature from my darkest nightmares, and I was alone.”
Cillian flinched away from her words. He’d thought he was doing the right thing by leaving her alone, but he’d been so wrong. Instead of giving her the space to come to terms with their marriage as he’d thought, she’d interpreted his distance as a lack of interest. The wolf didn’t understand everything that was happening, but it knew that he and his mate were both in distress. In his opinion, the only thing that would solve their problems was contact. Lots and lots of physical contact. A picture of an enormous wolf curled around a tiny woman with dark chestnut hair flashed into Cillian’s mind. The wolf wasn’t always right when it came to the nuance of human interactions, but this time, he thought he might be.
He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her. “I’m sorry, lass. That was never my intention. I only wanted you to feel safe, and you were afraid of me, so I thought it best to give you time. I told you I wouldn’t force you.”
Cora shook her head. “And you haven’t. But I’ve had enough time. I’m still—this is still frightening, Cillian. I won’t deceive you and claim that everything’s all right now, but I want to try. I want us to try.”
Cillian stood very still, afraid that the wrong move or word would shatter the moment. “Are you sure that’s what you want?” he asked. Hope flickered in his chest, but he refused to acknowledge it until she agreed.
Cora nodded slowly. “I don’t know if this can be a happy marriage, Cillian. I don’t know if we can love each other. But I—I would like to try.”
He smiled, leaning in to brush a kiss against her lips. “I don’t know, either. There’s never been a match like ours, and I don’t know yet if a peaceful—a happy—marriage is possible between our kinds. But I would like to try as well.”
A thought struck him, and before he’d thought it through, he’d pulled away and reached out his hand to her. “Do we have an agreement, Madam Fane?”
Cora grinned and nodded. “I believe we do, Wolf King.”
Chapter 14
Cora
Cora lifted her ladle to her mouth. She blew across it to cool the steaming stew before taking a bite. After the unexpected conversation with Cillian the day before, she’d wanted to do something kind for him. Cooking had never been one of her gifts, but a stew seemed easy enough. Seamus certainly hadn’t complained when she’d made good on her deal weeks back. The camp’s cook, a large, portly man called Artúr, had unknowingly given her the idea last night at dinner. He’d lamented the evening meal, complaining about the lack of meat in his stew. She’d enjoyed the vegetables just fine, but several of the men agreed, complaining that men needed meat to be strong. One had hooked a finger in his own mouth and pointed at his blunt teeth, claiming that a wolf’s teeth would fall out without enough meat. That several of his own teeth were missing seemed of little consequence to those who agreed with him.
Early this morning, she’d asked Seamus to trap some morning hares for her. He’d brought them to her only a few hours later, beaming with delight when she explained why she needed them. Thank heavens she had. She’d given no thought to how she was going to skin and clean the animals, but Seamus helped in exchange for a bowl of stew.
With Seamus’s rabbits and one of Artúr’s pots, Cora set to work. She’d spent enough time around the kitchens as a girl that she felt confident she could make something passable. At least, she didn’t think she’d poison anyone. Cora carefully sipped a spoonful after a moment. If anyone died because of her cooking, it ought to be her.
By mid-day, the stew bubbled continuously over the fire. Evidence of her struggle with her task littered the front of her dress. Blood from the rabbits, orange from the carrots, and green from the herbs she’d chopped all stained the fabric, but she didn’t care. The stew smelled wonderful and tasted even better. Once Cillian arrived for their mid-day meal, she’d be able to surprise him with something she’d made herself!
Last, Cora laid out spoons and bowls. She tied a wildflower to Cillian’s spoon and wondered if he’d find the gesture silly. After several minutes of back and forth with an imaginary Cillian, she left it. If he didn’t like the flower, maybe he’d overlook it in favor of the stew.
Cora stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead just as a group of men jogged past. She tried to catch a few words of their conversation, but they were gone too quickly. A commotion caught her attention as she bent to ladle stew into the bowls. The camp was always noisy, but not this much. She straightened, a bowl of stew in hand, and craned her neck to see what was happening.
A crowd approached their tent—men and women on horseback mixed with Cillian’s wildlings. Unlike the men in camp, the newcomers wore fine clothes made of good leather and sturdy cloth. If not for the wolf skins around their necks, she’d have thought them to be nobility.
At the head of the group, Cillian walked next to an old woman on a white horse. His expression was difficult to read from a distance, but he didn’t look pleased. The old woman sat atop her horse with all the regal bearing of a queen. That couldn’t be right—there were no queens in Ossory, and she knew of no queens from anywhere at all that might come to call on the luchthonn.
Cora was so distracted by the scene that she forgot herself. They approached Cillian’s tent—her tent—and stopped just afew yards from where she stood, bowl of stew still in hand. Cillian helped the woman dismount. For as old as she appeared, the woman slid to the ground with ease. They looked up, both noticing Cora at the same time. Cillian gave her a stiff smile, while the old woman’s expression might as well have been carved from ice.