“Or we could just fuck.”

Aidan sat straight up, the blanket still covering his head.

“What?” he barked.

“I said—”

“I heard what you said.”

“Then why did you ask?”

“Why are you asking me to fuck? Is this because of Keita?”

“Ew! What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” he said quickly.

“I’m just suggesting it because a distraction would do us both good. Don’t you think?”

“No.”

“But you’re not chatty and I need to get some rest before tomorrow. Fucking usually helps. If we were still with the army, I’d grab Sergeant—”

“Stop talking.” He pulled the blanket off his head, pushing his gold hair off his face. “Are you just using me for sex?”

“At the moment, yes. It’s the easiest way to work out anxiety.”

“I just read a good book,” he suggested.

“That’s what Annwyl does.” She glanced off. “And me dad.” She shrugged, dismissing his suggestion. “I’m not much of a reader. I’d rather have someone tell me a story than make me read a book. With words.”

Aidan’s eyes crossed and he fell back onto his bedding.

* * *

“I don’t know why you’re mad.” She felt the need to argue when all he wanted her to do was stop talking. “It was a valid question.”

“It was a valid question for a camp whore.”

“Now you’re being a baby.”

Aidan propped himself up on his elbows. “Do you really think so little of me?” he asked.

“I have no idea how to answer that.”

“Thank you very much.”

“No, no. I mean, I don’t know what you’re asking me. Do I think so little of you . . . how?”

“That I am just good for sex?”

“Of course, I don’t think that. You’re not good just for sex. You’re good for lots of things, as well as sex.” She grinned as if she’d made some brilliant observation that he should appreciate.

Aidan tossed one of the blankets at Brannie, hitting her directly in the head. It hung over her face and she didn’t bother to remove it. But she did keep talking.

“You’re being ridiculous,” she told him . . . through the blanket.

“I have honor. I may be a murdering, torturing, son-of-a-bastard Mì-runach, but I’m not a whore, Branwen the Awful.”

With a sigh, she pulled the blanket off and tossed it down beside him. She stretched out, their arms nearly touching.

“Well, don’t ever say I didn’t offer you anything,” she muttered.

He turned his head to look at her. “Are you saying you offered me your pussy?”

“No,” Brannie said immediately, but then she started giggling. “I guess I am.”

Now they were both laughing. And after the day they’d had, it felt really good.

Not no-strings-attached sex good, but . . . good.

Chapter Seven

A hand over her mouth woke Brannie up. She had her blade out and pressed against Aidan’s throat before she realized who he was.

He was on top of her, his weight holding her down. And strangely, she didn’t mind. It felt kind of nice, but she didn’t have time to think about that too much. Because Aidan’s expression told her something was very wrong.