Lost Creek Hollow una tortura perderte

She is struck. It is a hard thing for him to do—to stay so still in this moment. He wanted to pull her to him, console her. Show her that her worth is far more than the price Germanicus had saw fit to put on her head… but it could not be his place. And the way she searched him now—as if he knowing this secret, she looked to him differently, now. Colder?

“Oh, I can tell him, Silvertongue,” he murmured, a simmering ferocity rumbling in his softer tones that he reserved for her, now. “And I can tell him no others are to know.”

And then—prolonging, the moment he was about to let go the barest wisp of a thread she allowed him to have of her—he felt the tension coil at the very mention of Crowfeather. It was none of his business—he knew it was none of his business— “Does Crowfeather know what he did to you, mo ghaisgeach beag?” His gaze was a cool flame as he sought her gaze.