Swept Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book One)

Chapter Thirty-Three

Tristan chuckled as he watched me straightening my shirt the next morning, my fingers fumbling over the fabric. "Why are ye so nervous, lassie?" he teased.

"Ha ha," I replied dryly. "You know exactly why."

"It doesn't matter if they voted ye in or not. Yer to be my wife and will be coming along either way." He continued to look me up and down from his seat among the pillows, a slight lust to his expression. His pants were the only clothing he had on at the moment, and the sight of him made my stomach warm.

"No," I said forcefully before he could even ask the question. "We've never . . . done that . . . and I'm not about to let you try with your shoulder practically cut off."

"It's just a scratch. Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, it's a scratch now." Glaring at him, I bent and picked up my boots, sliding them onto my feet with ease. "But if you try anything rowdy, you're going to tear your stitches and be split halfway open again."

"Yer concern is noted," he answered playfully. "But I could do it just fine, trust me."

"Don't you want to wait for our wedding night?" I was joking, but the suggestion seemed to shut him right up. "That's a big deal in this time, isn't it? Sex being saved for marriage? For women, anyway."

"Aye," he chuckled. "But ye've already told me yer virtue is lost to another, so it doesn't matter, savvy?"

"Not until your shoulder is healed," I said again, sitting down beside him and smiling.

He was indeed stronger, and getting so every day, but the doctor said he couldn't unsling his arm or take the wraps off yet. The only time they came off was to change the fabric out, once a day. The two instances I'd seen it so far, it looked like a scene from a horror movie. He would have a nice sized scar, but he was alive and that was all that mattered. It would be another week at least before he could start using the arm as normal.

"I'm fine," he grumbled, sighing in acceptance.

"You almost bled to death two days ago," I corrected him. "Aren't Templars supposed to have taken a vow of celibacy anyway?"

"Where on earth did ye hear that?" He laughed, apparently finding my statement highly amusing.

"They started out as warrior monks, didn't they? Vowed to celibacy and a life of serving the Lord and his followers?"

"That may be what they started out as, but they aren't that way anymore, lassie. Otherwise, I'd have quit right at the beginning." Using his good arm, he pushed himself off the floor and grabbed his white shirt, pulling it over his head.

"Careful!" Stepping toward him, I took the shirt back off, gently easing his injured arm through its sleeve before helping him put the rest of it on.

"And here I was thinking ye could undress me instead." His eyes sparkled, the corners of his mouth curling into his flirtatious half grin. "Now ye be telling me I have to wait till we're married."

"When will that be?" I asked casually, not able to help my own smile.

"I'd do it right this moment if I wasn't a gentleman." He beamed down at me, his free arm sliding around my waist as he leaned over and kissed me fully.

Feeling a little mischievous, I caught his bottom lip between my teeth and nibbled it a bit, thoroughly enjoying the growl I got in response. My hands traveled down his sides, resting on his hips, and I held him to me, flicking my tongue inside his mouth.