Chapter 66

“Good morning,” Reeve said, his voice husky with sleep. “How are you, my Princess? Did you get enough rest?”

Kit readjusted so that she was able to see him better without straining her neck. “I slept just fine, thank you.” That may not be exactly true, but the last thing she wanted to do was revisit her dreams. “And you?”

“Hardly a wink,” Reeve replied, though his smile didn’t seem to match his response. “I’m afraid I spent most of the night listening to you breathe.”

Kit let out an ahh at how sweet his sentiment was. “Lucky for you the queen has nothing planned for today then, isn’t it? Perhaps you can get some more sleep once you return to your room.”

“Possibly. Although, it’s not exactly quiet on our end of the hall--ever. There are always people stirring about.”

“I can imagine that would be the case, what with so many Representatives and all of their liegemen with them. Does everyone seem to get along?”

Reeve looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding. “For the most part. There are a few that get out of sorts from time to time, but it’s nothing too spectacular. Now that Jecobian is no longer there to rile everyone up.” His eyes widened as he took in her expression. “I’m so sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to bring up a sore topic.”

“No, it’s all right,” Kit assured him, and she meant it. “He certainly did have a way of making everyone feel uncomfortable when he wanted to.”

“Yes, but it’s a blessing from the goddesses that he healed nicely. I heard he should be heading home soon.”

“I’ve heard the same,” Kit confirmed. She grew weary of speaking of Jecob, though. Reeve had the sheets around his waist, but his well-sculpted chest was just in front of her, and she couldn’t help but run the palm of her hand over the smooth surface. “I hope I wasn’t too much for you last night.”

He chuckled, clearly uncomfortable, and reached up to take her hand. He raised it to his lips and softly kissed her palm. “I must say, I was surprised, but then, after dinner, perhaps I shouldn’t have been. I’m under the impression you had a bit of a tiff with the queen?”

“Something like that.” The last thing in the world she wanted to talk about was her mother. He released her hand, and she caressed his cheek. She had no idea what time it was but wondered if they might have long enough for another round before her ladies came to fetch her for the morning meal. It would be with her mother and the council, not her suitors, and she wouldn’t be at all surprised if Rona didn’t give her a stern talking to for inviting Reeve despite her wishes. Kit would have to worry about that later. She ran her hand back down his chest and scooted closer to him.

Reeve seemed to sense her thinking. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers, his kiss becoming more intense, more passionate with each passing second. Kit rolled to her back, letting the sheets fall as she did so, and Reeve leaned over on top of her, most of his weight still to the side, but his lips never left hers as his hand traced down her neck bringing a rush of heat. His fingertips lingered just above her breastbone, and Kit murmured, wanting him to go further.

He pulled away, looked down at her, and smiled. Kit bit her bottom lip and wiggled beneath him, bringing her hand around to his side. Her fingers graced his chest, but then she landed on his scar, and she could see him tense up. “It doesn’t bother me in the least,” she assured him. He relaxed slightly, and her hand moved on, resting on his hip bone.

The dance she’d circumvented the night before was welcome now in the early rays of a bright summer sun. His kisses lingered along her neck, teasing her ear, finally lowering to ripen each nipple with a pluck and a nudge of his tongue. Kit rode the melody, letting him take his time and explore her, singing when his lips made their way between her legs where an ache began to reverberate as she longed to feel him inside of her again.

Reeve paused only long enough to acquire a new sheath, and then, he kissed her deeply, leaving the scent of her womanhood on her lips as he pressed her thighs apart before entering her. He was gentle, much less rushed than she had been the night before, and she let him take his time, raising her hips only slightly to meet him. She ran her hand across the tight muscles of his buttocks, causing him to moan into her neck, and then he hastened the tempo slightly, pulsating inside of her with a steady rhythm that kept Kit’s heart fluttering and her breath a wispy staccato.

Carried away by the melody of their bodies beating together, Kit cried his name several times, letting him know she approved of this slow dance, and when she reached a crescendo, she pulled him along with her until both of their bodies trembled together, and Reeve leaned his sweaty forehead on her shoulder.

Kit took a few deep breaths, difficult to do with Reeve on top of her, but he pulled himself off soon enough, and then she found her heartbeat returning to its normal rate. She turned her head to take him in, noticing his eyes were closed tightly, as they had been the night before. She didn’t bother to ask about his welfare again, assuming she’d get the same response as the last time.

Eventually, his eyes were locked on her, and she smiled at him. “That was... lovely.”

“You didn’t mind the more gentle nature?”

Kit giggled. “No, in fact, I usually prefer it.” She decided to bite off her explanation for her behavior the night before. He already knew there’d been a quarrel involved, and that was enough. “I take it that slow is more to your liking as well?”

“Usually,” he replied, his face taking on a pink hue that had nothing to do with his recent exertions. “I haven’t gotten as much practice as some of the others.”

She nodded in understanding. “It doesn’t show.”

That brought a grin to his face. “Thank you. I hope you’re not saying that just to be kind. But then... perhaps even if you are, you may as well not tell me.”

She laughed again, louder this time. “No, I would never.” Rolling over, she placed her hand on his chest. “But in all seriousness, I did enjoy it.”

He leaned up and kissed her. “Good to know, Princess.”

Kit laid her head back on his chest, running her fingertips absently up and down his arm, thinking her ladies would be there any moment. A stolen glance at the clock on the wall told her she should be expecting it. But still, she wanted to know if she’d connected well enough with Reeve for him to tell her his secret. So, with a deep breath, she asked, “Do you want to say what happened? Or would you rather not?”

Reeve was quiet for a long moment, and she supposed he wasn’t planning on providing an answer at all. She wouldn’t hold it against him if he chose not to tell her. But then, just when she was about to ask something else, to change the subject entirely, he said, “I was four. It was a big horned sheep, the kind my parents raise, and my grandparents before them. This one, was... different. Most of them can be easily controlled by a dog, by a horse. But this one... my grandfather gave him a special name. Cujola. In our ancient language, it means evil. He may have been stalking me for days, weeks even. I had no idea. One day, I was out in the pasture helping my father; not really doing much at all but being in the way, most likely. But it was important for me to learn how to tend to all of the livestock as early as possible. Cujola waited until my father’s back was turned, until no one else was paying me any mind, and that’s when he struck. He rammed into me several times with his rough horns, but then, he also pressed my body up against the sharp wires of the pasture fence. Some of the cuts were from the sheep; others from the wires.”

“Oh, my goddess!” Kit said, rising up to look at him. “You must’ve been terrified.”

“I was at first. But soon enough, the pain was so unbearable that I lost consciousness. Ruff tried to intervene, but on his own, he was no match for the sheep, and he was trampled to death. My father struck Cujola down as quickly as he could, which wasn’t easy. He was a large animal, old and feisty. By the time my father got me back to the house so my mother and grandmother could tend to me, I’d lost so much blood, they didn’t think I’d live.”

Reeve cleared his throat, and looked out the window. Kit gave him a moment to compose himself. “They used poultices and other medicines that had been handed down through our family. I lay perfectly still for days, in and out of consciousness, before finally, a week after the attack, I opened my eyes for the first time. It took another week before I dared to look at my injuries, but I glanced down once while my grandmother was changing my wrappings and saw that most of my body was shredded on the one side. I didn’t think there was any way I’d ever look normal again.”

Kit reached up and brushed a lock of hair off of his forehead, still wet with perspiration. “You must have been quite the fighter to make it through such a traumatic event.”

He only shrugged. “It was my mother and grandmother who saved me. Ruff had slowed him down, poor sweet creature. And of course my father had been the one to end Cujola. If they had given up on me for even a moment, I wouldn’t be here. But thanks to all of them, I made it through. Now, I have this horribly ugly scar to remind me of what happened.”

Kit looked down, pulling the sheet away where it covered part of the jagged line that ran down the length of his left side. “It’s not ugly to me,” she replied, bending to place her lips in several places along the path. “It’s a story—it tells what you have overcome.” She looked back into his eyes. “Don’t ever think any less of yourself because of it. Scars make us who we are. Without them, we would all be weaklings, uninteresting, afraid of the world, and unable to stand up and tell our stories.”

Reeve nodded at her, but it wasn’t just his scar she was thinking of, and when Kit rested her head back on his chest, an overwhelming longing overcame her like nothing she’d experienced for as long as she could remember. She fought off her tears, though, not wanting Reeve to question them. She imagined if one slipped free, he’d think it was for him, and perhaps part of her did wish to mourn that little boy who had undergone so much, but if she was honest with herself, she was missing another boy, one with his fair share of scars, and longing to be the carefree little girl who used to run with him through the woods.

Kit could speak so poignantly about scars because she bore quite a few of her own, none so deep as the one etched through her heart. While she was certainly beginning to bond with each of these men, she couldn’t imagine her future without that boy from her past. Knowing she could never have him, and eventually she’d be asked to choose between the ones she could have was far too much for her to bear. There had to be a better way….