Hideaway Strath Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin'

He all but blurted out his hesitant question, and it surprised her; only a slight frown showed on her face as she looked up at him. Her probing gaze studied his face as though she were trying to deduce whether or not he actually cared what her answer was. What she found in his expression made her heart skip. Shame—she knew it when she saw it; she had felt it enough lately. Maybe that was why his own further doused her anger.

She swallowed and tightened her jaw a moment as she tried to find her words. Her frown smoothed to something far softer. I'm not afraid of you, she told him quietly. I hate what you've done, but I'm no longer afraid that you would do it again. She had seen his guilt over it more than once. More than anything, though, there had plenty of chances for him to take advantage but he hadn't. She had slept next to him every night, and he had accepted any signal she had given that she wasn't ready to do anything other than curl up next to him or be affectionate. 

She nuzzled him and rested her had against him to look out over the snow. So far, you have proven that you wouldn't treat me that way.