Chapter 23: Ask Me Properly

I lasted nine days.

On the tenth night I climbed the east tower stair with my sling off and my boots in my hand.

I did not knock.

Kjell was at the window in his shirtsleeves, with a ledger open on the sill and a pen in his fist.

He had not turned around when he said, "You said spring."

"I lied."

"I thought you might have."

He set the pen down and turned.

The fire had burned to coals, and in that low red light the scar on his jaw was a dark line.

"Ask me properly," he said.

"You said the whole Hold."

"I said nothing. You did." The corner of his mouth moved. "I would like to hear it first. Without the Hold."

I put my boots on the floor.

I walked up to him until I had to tip my head back.

"Kjell Branvik," I said. "I'm asking for the mate claim. Not for the term. Not for the winter. For all of it."

His hand came up and cradled my jaw.

"For how long?"

"Until I'm old and you're insufferable."

He laughed, low in his chest, and then he stopped laughing and kissed me.

It was slow.

He let me feel every second of it.

He had kissed me in anger and in grief, on a table and against a wall.

I had not known this was waiting under all of it.

My hands found the buttons of his shirt.

"Careful of the shoulder," he said against my mouth.

"I'll live."

"Careful anyway."

"Then undress me slowly," I said.

He did.

He unlaced my tunic with his teeth, one tie at a time.

I stood with my hands in his hair and my breath coming short.

When it fell open he kissed the new scar on my shoulder, so lightly that I shivered.

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