“Come to bed.”
Startled, he turned. Ghleanna still had her eyes closed but she held her hand out to him.
“I should—”
“If you say work, I’m going to get nasty. Bed. Now.” She opened one eye. “It’s not like we haven’t slept together before.”
Bram sat at the edge of the bed and removed his boots. “At least this time your brothers won’t be storming in to wake us up and calling us whores.” He dropped the last boot and asked, “Or will they?”
“Not that I’m aware.” She moved over and Bram got into the bed fully clothed. Ghleanna didn’t complain, for which he was grateful. He knew he couldn’t handle being naked around a naked Ghleanna. Not right now.
“Should you be sleeping on your side?” he asked. “And why isn’t your arm tied down?”
“Don’t harass me,” she barked back, sounding adorably cranky half-asleep. “The surgeon says I only need to wear it during the day. I think he fears I’ll start swinging a sword before I’m fully healed.” That was probably because Bram had told the surgeon she might do that and did he have a way to keep her from doing so. But Bram wouldn’t mention that. Why cause problems when there were none?
“What if you flail wildly in your sleep? Then what?”
“You’ll get hit in the face and my wound will be the least of your worries. Now can we both get some rest?”
He relaxed on his side, facing Ghleanna. Her eyes were once again closed, her breathing even. She was asleep once more.
Bram didn’t know how things would be once they left here. Once they were free again, heading to Alsandair to finish what they’d started. But Bram knew what he wanted. He wanted Ghleanna and, as Rhiannon had accurately guessed, he’d wanted her for a very long time. Whether Ghleanna felt the same or not, however, he really didn’t know.
But when she reached out in her sleep and cupped his jaw in her hand, he felt a definite sense of hope.
Chapter 11
“Fruit.”
Bram opened his eyes and stared at the big shiny fruit held up before him. “Yes, it is.”
“Plus bread and cheese. Hungry?”
Bram sat up, but immediately frowned. “Why is the area around your wound bruised?”
Ghleanna shrugged and bit into a big piece of bread.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. Eat.”
Bram glanced down at himself. “I’m . . . naked.”
Ghleanna nodded, bit into a juicy piece of fruit.
“And when did that happen?”
“No idea.” She held out another piece of fruit. “Must say, though . . . I do like you naked.”
He took the treat from her hand. “Thank you. For the fruit and the compliment.”
“You’re welcome.”
They ate in silence for a while, Bram busy trying not to stare. Gods, she was beautiful.
“Do you have much work to do today?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so. I heard from Rhiannon.” When Ghleanna frowned, he added, “Something to do with her increasing powers. Which are, I must admit, becoming daunting.”
“She’d been held back a lifetime because of her mother. She has much time to make up for.”
“I guess.”
“I wouldn’t worry. Rhiannon’s grandmother had that level of power and she managed it fine.”
“And Bercelak’s there for balance. A rational thought in the chaos of Rhiannon’s mind.” Ghleanna raised a brow at that and Bram shrugged. “I’ve never doubted the good your brother brings to our young queen’s reign. I merely wish they wouldn’t stick me in the middle of whatever they like doing. It’s off-putting.”
“Then you shouldn’t keep hugging her.”
“It’s not me!”
Ghleanna laughed, bit into another fruit, and Bram noted, “You have your appetite back.”
“Had I ever lost it?”
“It was definitely diminished for a while there.” Ghleanna stared at him for a moment. “You were very worried about me, weren’t you?”
“Sword through the chest,” he said. “That may be normal for your kin, but not mine.”
“You and your lot—sit around drinking wine and discussing important things, I bet.”
“You’d be wrong. We sit around, drink wine, and argue. A lot.”
“Argue? You?”
“Raised to argue. Both my parents are lawmakers, and no Dragon Law is created without much discussion, debate, and arguing. Sometimes a fist fight, but those are rare—and never very impressive. Almost sad.”
Ghleanna shook her head. “And all your kind do it? Argue, I mean.”
“My mother can find reason to argue about a grain of sand. And my father doesn’t think a meal is complete unless someone proclaims, ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Where’s your proof to that statement?’ I don’t mind so much now.” He sighed. “It was a little overwhelming, though, when I was only eight winters. My wings hadn’t even unfurled.”
“Me and mine . . . we argue. But to back up your statement Cadwaladrs just need to be willing to take a claw to the face. Or a shield.”
“Aye. I remember that.”
Ghleanna blinked, frowning. “You were at our dinners?”
There was a pause and then Bram demanded, “Was I entirely invisible to you?”