Brodie was watching her; she could feel his eyes on her skin. When she peeked up to confirm it, she wasn’t surprised to see his familiar mask in place.
He’d brought her water. He’d been trying to comfort her in his own way.
He saved ye.
What?
All that stupid, “Uuurgh, I’m in pain!” nonsense. ‘Twas him offering ye a reason to leave the meal. He saved ye.
Slowly, Fen straightened, the realization making her feel…different. There was a ball of something new in her middle now—not the familiar knot of worry and shame and fear, but something light and white, and other things that rhymed with sight.
He’d saved her, and that knowledge filled her with a sense of wonder she’d never experienced before.
“The rabbit was too salty.”
Aaandjust like that, he popped her bubble of lightness.
“What?” she snapped, her eyes going wide.
His chin dropped once, as if confirming his claim. “’Twas too salty. And tough.”
She gasped, her arm falling away from her middle. “’Twas no’ too salty! I seasoned it perfectly.”
When he shrugged and crossed his arms in front of his chest, despite the crutch, he managed to look completely bored by the conversation. As if he hadn’t just insulted her very being.
“And ye used too much butter on the leeks.”
Her jaw dropped, her shoulders straightened, and it took a moment to draw enough breath to make her voice work. “How dare ye! ‘Twas my own recipe!”
His brows twitched in challenge. “Then yer recipe is faulty. I wouldnae have used as much butter.”
“Are ye mad? ‘Tis nae such thing as too much butter!” She threw her hands up in exasperation, stepping away from the counter. “’Tis ridiculous! Nae one says, ‘Och, ‘tis delicious, but ye ken what it needs less of? Butter!’ ‘Tis like saying I used too much garlic, Brodie!”
He shrugged again. “There’s such a thing as too much garlic.”
“There’s nae such thing as too much garlic, ye madman!” She jabbed a finger into his chest, and he didn’t even rock. “Garlic, butter, honey—ye cannae use too much of them! They’re delicious!” She jabbed him again.
“Ye’ve obviously never heard of less is more.”
“That doesnae make sense!” She was well aware she was screeching now, but how dare he? She jabbed him yet again, wanting to make him move, wanting to feel him move. “Ye dinnae make sense.”
“I make perfect sense.” Damn him and his even tone! “I’m a simple man.”
“Too simple,” she snapped. “Less is more? That doesnae apply to garlic! Everyone kens that!”
Once more, her finger stabbed at him, but a third time must’ve been his breaking point. Before she could make contact, his hand whipped around to wrap around her finger, holding her in place.
They both froze for a moment, and she tried to remember how to breathe…but then his other arm was around her waist, pulling her closer, crushing her against him.
And then his lips claimed hers.
He flattened her hand against his chest, and her free arm snaked around his neck, the same as she’d done in the garden. And just as she had that day, now she couldn’t seem to make herself stop, to play the gentle maiden.
Because when it came to Brodie, she didn’t want to be the gentle maiden. She wanted to be the aggressor and show him exactly what she wanted, what she needed.
What she ached to have.
When his tongue swept between her lips, she hummed with need and teased him right back, nibbling and sucking in response to his teachings. This man—this enigmatic warrior who knew how to irritate her with just a word—understood her body in a way she could’ve never imagined.