She broke off and blushed to the roots of her hair.
“I understand your meaning,” Caelen said gruffly. “No offense, Keeley, but ’tis a matter between me and my wife. I’ll be taking her now. You should be resting, not consuming ridiculous amounts of ale.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too rigid?” Keeley groused.
Caelen leaned down and slid his arms underneath Rionna’s slight body and lifted her. She weighed next to nothing, and to his surprise, he liked the feel of her in his arms. It was … nice.
He strode toward the door, barked an order to Gannon, whom he knew to be standing on the other side, and the door quickly opened. In the hall Caelen met Alaric, who raised his eyebrow inquiringly.
“See to your own wife,” Caelen said rudely. “She’s probably unconscious by now.”
“What?” Alaric demanded.
But Caelen ignored him and continued on to his chamber. He shouldered his way in and then gently laid Rionna down on his bed. With a sigh, he stepped back to stare down at her.
So the little warrior was frightened. And to escape him, she’d drank herself into oblivion. Hardly complimentary to Caelen, but then he supposed he couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t been … Well, he hadn’t been a lot of things.
With a shake of his head, he began peeling away her clothing until she was down to her underclothes. His hands shook as he smoothed the thin linen garment over her body.
He could see nothing of her breasts. She was a slight woman and she didn’t have much in the way of a bosom. Her body was lean and toned, unlike any other woman he’d ever encountered.
He ached to lift the hem of her underdress and pull it away from her body until she was naked to his gaze. It was his right. She was his wife.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.
He could wake her now and assert his husbandly rights, but he had a sudden desire to see her eyes flame with the same want he felt. He wanted to hear her soft cries of pleasure. He didn’t want her to be afraid.
He smiled and shook his head. When she woke in the morning, she’d likely have a raging headache, and she’d wonder what the hell happened the night before.
He might have a conscience about taking what was rightfully his until she was prepared to surrender herself body and soul, but that didn’t mean she had to know it right away.
He slid into bed beside her and pulled the heavy fur over the both of them. The scent of her hair curled through his nose, and the warmth from her body beckoned to him.
With a muttered curse, he turned over until he faced away.
To his utter dismay, she murmured in her sleep and then snuggled up against his back, her warm, lush body molded so tightly to his that he hadn’t a prayer of sleeping this night.