“He is heavy!”

She rolled her eyes in disgust as I laid my right cheek on Dagan’s left shoulder, stabilizing his thick, sandy bicep with my right hand, while wedging his forearm into my left armpit.

“Drop, twist, and throw. Go!”

With a grunt, I did the move I’d been practicing, twisting as I fell to my knees and using the momentum to fling Dagan over my shoulder onto his back.

He landed with a whump, sending up a shower of sand.

“I did it! That’s seven times.” Breathless, I wiped sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand.

Ummi grunted, pulling me to my feet, but Dagan groaned as he stood, dusted with sand. “Seven times too many.”

“Seven times is not nearly enough, but it will have to do. As I told you before, you need to practice this to be sure you can use it when you need it.”

“I will remember it,” I panted. “Thank you for the lesson.”

“You are most welcome. I’ll meet you to do knife skills after I eat.” She jogged away toward the smells of food being cooked over the morning fire.

“What about thanking me? It was my body being abused!” Dagan feigned offense as he pulled me into a hug. I squeezed him back as tightly as I could, my arms around his waist.

“Well, you were a brilliant assistant. I offer you my humblest and deepest apologies,” I teased, pulling away from him and brushing sand off his bare torso, letting my hand linger on his warm chest. His heart beat under there, steady and true, a strong thump, thump, thump against my palm.

He took my hands in his, a grin playing around his mouth. “Perhaps you’d like to kiss me and make me better.”

I gave him a quick peck on the lips. He came back in for another, but I laughed, blushing. “I’m a sweaty, sandy mess and everyone is around.”

He trailed a sandy finger down my cheek. “You’ve never been more beautiful.”

That was a lie. It was he who was beautiful. Some of his hair had shaken loose from its knot, and it reminded me of the first time I’d woken up under the same roof as him. He’d stumbled out of his room at first light, rubbing sleep from his eyes, his hair loose around his shoulders. When he spotted me at the table, he’d shyly run his hand through his hair to try to smooth it, and I’d been filled with such fire, I’d had to stop myself from launching into his arms that very second.

And now? He was standing there, pressing me to him, love—and a bit of hunger—in his amber eyes.

For me.

So why don’t I say yes to his offer of marriage this minute? Take him back to my tent and show him how much I really love him before our futures go up in smoke?

“You’re thinking. That line is between your brows,” he murmured as he brushed sand from my shoulders. Off my arms. “But I have been thinking, too, Arammu.”