Chapter 13

Oskar took another gulp of his whisky and stared into the fire. His body was still tingling with desire, despite his attempts to drown it in booze. He couldn't stop thinking about Lily. She had finally opened up to him, told him about her past, laid bare her vulnerability and pain. Far from repulsing him as she seemed to think it would, it had only made him admire her more. What a woman she was. To come through what she had, to have endured what she had... He'd rarely seen such strength. Oh, how he wished she were his.

Ah, what a cruel joke that was. She could never be his.

His heart ached, torn between his desire for Lily and the insurmountable wall that stood between them. It was a wall he had built himself, brick by brick, with the stones of his past.

It was his own fault she didn't want him and he didn't blame her for that. Who would want to be shackled to a man like him? She deserved better. After all she had endured, she deserved the best—and that was not him. He loved her and that meant he would not, could not, drag her into his darkness. He would not bring her any more pain than she'd already suffered.

So he was glad she'd pulled away, stopped things going any further. It was better this way. Better that she didn't love him back. Better that she had seen the monster that he really was before they both took a step they couldn't come back from.

But that didn't mean it was any less painful.

He didn't know how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? He'd lost track of them all. He could hear no movement from upstairs. Perhaps she'd fallen asleep?

"Oskar?"

He slewed around and there she was, standing in the doorway. He hadn't heard her come downstairs. She was so beautiful that he felt his breath catch and the desire he'd been trying so hard to drown in whisky came roaring to life again.

"Aye?" he said softly.

She walked over to him and sat in the other chair. "I...I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Ye have nothing to be sorry for."

"Yes I do. I shouldn't have reacted like that. It just...just caught me off guard. And I've been thinking—"

"Dinna go any further, lass," he said, cutting her off. "Mayhap it would be best for both of us if ye just went back to bed and left things as they are."

"No it wouldn't and you know that. I've been doing some thinking—"

"Thinking is dangerous."

"Maybe," she said with a wry smile. "But all the best things are." She fixed him with an intense stare. "I've been sitting up there, trying to make sense of everything. But I can't. I can't make sense of why I wanted you so badly just now. And I can't make sense of why I still want you."

He looked at her, feeling his heartbeat quicken. "Then ye shouldnae. I am no good for ye, Lily. I will only bring ye hurt."

"I don't believe that."

"Ye should!" he snapped, suddenly angry. "Listen to me! I carry shadows that will engulf ye if ye draw too close. I canna bear the thought of bringing ye harm, not after all ye have endured."

"I don't believe ye would ever harm me."

"Then ye dinna know me!"

"Don't I? Don't you think you should let me be the judge of that?"

"Ye dinna understand!" he cried, springing from his chair and whirling away from her.

Curse it all, how could he make her see? He had once thought he could be different, that perhaps, just perhaps, he could be a better man, a man that might have deserved someone like her. But coming back here, to the place where it had started, had taught him his mistake. It had shown him who he really was, no matter how hard he tried to be something else.

And now she was tempting him, daring him to believe otherwise. Didn't she know how close he was to losing control? To giving in to his desire for her?

"I'm not the man ye think I am," he said softly. "I'm not some selfless hero out of a story. I am everything Bryn Fletcher said I was and worse. Ye would do well to stay away from me."

He heard her move closer but he didn't turn. "Weren't you the one who was just telling me that we aren't defined by our past?"

"This is different."

"How?"

He turned on her. "Because what happened to ye was an accident! But everything I did, I did by choice! That man who beat Fletcher's men without a thought? That man who would have stabbed the bastard through the heart if ye hadnae stopped him? That's who I am, Lily! That's who I've always been! And I willnae let ye shackle yerself to such a man!"

He was angry now. Furious. But he didn't know if it was directed at her, himself, or the world in general. All he knew was that he wanted to smash something, wanted to give into the rage and despair that was coursing through him.

It was all so god-damned unfair! Never would he have dreamed he could feel the way he did about Lily. Never would he have dared to dream that she might, just might, feel the same way. And yet here she was, standing right in front of him, challenging him to give in to that desperate need for her.

But he could not. He would not. He should not have kissed her. She had been right to pull away. The incident with Fletcher had already shown what would happen to her if he let her get close.

Lily did not back away. From the first moment he'd met her, she'd never flinched from anything, not even her own pain.

"Then tell me," she said.

"What?"

"Tell me everything. You say I don't know you? Then show me the real Oskar Galbraith, warts and all."

He stared at her. How could he tell her the things that haunted him, the memories that crawled beneath his skin like worms? The things he had done, the choices he had made...

"Ye dinna want to know, lass."

She put her hand on his arm, her fingers digging in almost painfully. "Yes I do. And I think you want to tell me."

"I wouldnae know where to start."

"How about the beginning? You said you grew up in Edinburgh. How about you start there?"

She wasn't going to let him get out of this. He let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging.

"All right. What do ye want to know?"

"Everything."

He sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair as he gathered his thoughts. "All right. As ye know, I was born in Edinburgh," he began. "I grew up wanting to be a blacksmith. A man called Donal had a smithy at the end of our street and I used to hang around there all the time, especially when my mother was entertaining her guests."

"Guests?"

"My mother was a whore." He was surprised how easily the words came. "I never knew my father. One of her patrons, I suppose. I used to fantasize that Donal was actually my father and that one day he would reveal it. Never happened, of course. He had a family of his own and only put up with me hanging around out of pity."

Now that he'd started to speak, he didn't seem able to stop. Images danced before his eyes, images from a past he'd tried to forget.

"When I was nine, my mother died. One of her customers refused to pay and they got in a fight. Knocked over a candle and there was a fire. I ran back to the house and tried to save her. I was too late."

He said it coldly, dispassionately, even as the smell of smoke and burned flesh seemed to dance in his nostrils.

"Wait," Lily said, her eyes wide with horror. "That burned-out house you stopped in front of the other day. That was it, wasn't it? That was where you grew up?"

"Aye." He turned away. He couldn't bear the compassion in her eyes. He didn't deserve it. "After that, Donal and his family did what they could for me but they didnae have enough for themselves, let alone another hungry mouth. So I took to the streets. I did whatever I must to survive. Stealing. Pick-pocketing. Eventually I took up with a gang that ruled down by the river. I was the lowest of the low to start with but I quickly gained a reputation for being ruthless and cunning. The gang leader took a liking to me, taught me how to fight, how to kill. It wasnae long before I was running errands for him, collecting debts, and eliminating rivals. Until eventually, I eliminated him. It became my gang and I ruled those streets with an iron hand. Bryn Fletcher was right. Everyone was afraid of me, and with good reason. I was a monster."

He awaited her judgment, a tightness in his chest as he braced himself for her inevitable recoil. Lily's eyes searched his face, flickering with a myriad of emotions. "So what changed?"

"I met Kai Stewart," Oskar replied, the memory still bright in his mind. "I was on one of my usual rounds, extorting money from the shopkeepers in the market square. They all paid up without question, except for one elderly cobbler who refused me. I was about to strike him when a finely-dressed upstart stepped in front of me and told me to stop. Said what I was doing was wrong, just like that. I remember scoffing at him, ready to put him in his place, break his pretty face. But he didnae flinch. He just stood there, staring me down. So I reacted how I always did: I went for him."

He laughed softly at the memory. "Kai kicked seven bells out of me without even breaking a sweat. I lay there, battered and bruised, staring up at the sky as Kai stood over me. He extended a hand to help me up, and for the first time in my life, I felt something other than fear or anger. Respect. And maybe a flicker of gratitude that I didnae want to admit. Rather than killing me or turning me over to the authorities, he gave me a choice. A chance. He saw something in me that I'd never seen in myself. I left Edinburgh and went to Dun Saith to train with the Order. It was there that I discovered that there was more to life than power and fear."

He turned to look at her. "But as soon as I come back here, I revert to what I was. Ye saw what I did, what I'm capable of. That's the real me. The other, the vaunted warrior of the Order of the Osprey is a sham."

He fell silent, watching her, and Lily said nothing. He wished he could tell what she was thinking. But then again, maybe not. He doubted he could bear to hear what she really thought about him.

Her expression was troubled as she watched him, the skin between her eyebrows pinched and her brow furrowed.

"I think you've got it backwards," she said at last.

"Backwards? What do ye mean?"

"It's not the Order of the Osprey warrior that is the sham, Oskar. It's the street-thug. You became that person to survive. That's the mask you had to pull on. That's the persona you had to hide behind. But the real you? The man you chose to be? That's the Order of the Osprey warrior. That's the man who carried me when I couldn't walk. That's the man who risks his life for those he cares about. That's the boy who dreamed of being a blacksmith and had it all taken away from him."

"I wish that were true. But ye dinna understand—"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

Oskar blinked. "What?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"What? No, of course not—"

"Then why do you treat me like one?" She took a step closer, anger flashing in her eyes now. "Do you really think that I'm such a poor judge of character that I'd stick around if you really were the evil bastard you claim?"

Oskar said nothing, taken aback by Lily's words. He searched her face for the mockery he expected to see, but found none. Only sincerity.

"Lily," he began. "I..."

She silenced him with a finger on his lips and a soft smile. "Do you think I'm such an idiot that I would fall in love with a man like that?"

Oskar's breath caught in his throat. For a second, he thought his heart had stopped. Then it lurched into motion again and the world carried on just as it had before, as if Lily hadn't just said what he thought she had. But that couldn't be right. How could the world just carry on as normal when everything had changed?

Oskar stood there, shocked into stillness. Lily's words echoed in his ears, her revelation sinking in slowly like the first rays of dawn breaking through the darkness. He had never dared to hope for this, never allowed himself to believe that she might feel the same way he did.

But it still made no difference.

"Ye dinna understand. I made a vow, Lily. I vowed to keep ye safe. It binds me tighter than a rope around my neck. Being near me isnae safe. Ye were attacked because of me. If ye get close to me, my enemies will use ye against me."

She stared at him for a long time. "You're as bad as me, you know that?"

"What do ye mean?"

"I thought I was the one always making excuses, always the one hiding behind a mask. But I'm not the only one. You do it too."

Irene MacAskill's words suddenly rang in his mind. I know that ye yearn for something that ye canna find. What ye seek canna be found in battles and bloodshed.

Had he been looking in the wrong place all along?

"That isnae what this is," he said, pushing Irene's words from his mind. "I love ye, Lily. That means I canna put ye in danger."

"That's an excuse!" she replied. "Everything is dangerous. Walking out the door is dangerous. We never know when our time is up." Something flashed across her features and he wondered if she was remembering her past. "One thing that I've learned is that sometimes we have to take risks. Are you willing to take a risk, Oskar?"

She stared up at him, her dark eyes trapping him like a fly in amber.

"Lily, I..." His voice failed him.

So instead, he did the only thing that made any sense. He cupped her face in his big hands and kissed her.

IT FELT SO GOOD. BETTERthan good. It felt incredible. Liberating. Such simple words, but they changed everything.

Do you think I'm such an idiot that I would fall in love with a man like that?

Lily hadn't realized she was going to say those words until they dropped out of her mouth. She hadn't even realized she meant them until they did. But then, as soon as the admission left her lips, she knew it was true.

She loved him. She loved Oskar Galbraith, the fire-haired, bad-tempered, brave, loyal, wonderful, complicated man that he was. The fact that the revelations about his past didn't change how she felt was the first clue. In fact, those revelations only solidified the feelings that had been creeping up on her during their time together.

Sure, he a had a past. He had a dark past that had scarred and shaped him in ways that many people would not have survived. And if he hadn't gone through those things, if he hadn't been forced to do the things he'd done, would he be the man standing before her right now? The man who had begun to knock down the wall she'd built around herself and let the light in? She didn't think so.

And now he was kissing her and Lily's thoughts were bursting into fragments and blowing away. Her arms snaked around his neck, pulling him closer as their kiss deepened. She had never felt anything like this. It was like coming home after a long journey, like finding something she never knew was missing.

When they finally parted, Oskar rested his forehead against Lily's, their breaths mingling in the quiet space between them.

"Lily," he whispered, his voice husky with emotion. "I love ye."

Her heart lurched at his words, a warmth spreading through her as she gazed into his eyes, seeing the truth and vulnerability laid bare before her. "I love you too, Oskar," she replied softly, her fingers intertwining with his.

Without breaking eye contact, he swept Lily off her feet effortlessly and carried her over to the fireplace where he laid her on the thick rug. He followed her down, kissing her again, until she was on her back and he was kneeling over her, one hand braced by her head. His lips explored her, leaving a trail of fire along her jawline, down her neck, and across her collarbone.

But he lifted his head, a shadow of doubt in his eyes. "Are ye sure this is what ye want?"

She didn't answer with words. She showed him. Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands and then ever so softly kissed him all over his face. His eyes slid closed, a soft hiss escaping his lips.

"I'll take that as an ‘aye'," he murmured.

"Please do."

Oskar's movements were slow, deliberate, as he began unlacing the front of her dress. Lily gasped as his hand slipped beneath, sliding across her skin, and arched into him as goosebumps rode across her body.

Oskar took the opportunity to slip the dress from her shoulders and then tug it over her hips. Lily kicked out of it, leaving her naked but for her panties. Oskar's eyes darkened at the sight of her, something like hunger reflecting on this face as his gaze roved over her, traveling from her face, down her body, and back up again.

He bent his head and took one of her nipples into his mouth, sucking and nipping with his teeth. Lily gasped, tangled her hands in his fiery hair and arched her back at the deliciously, almost-painful sensation.

Taking his cue from her reactions, Oskar dipped lower, scraping his lips across her midsection, circling her navel with his tongue and laying tiny, sensual kisses along the ridges of her hips.

In response, Lily's nerve endings burst into flame. She felt her skin heating, felt tingles of something like electricity burning across her skin, and heat pooling in her stomach and between her legs.

Oh hell. What was Oskar doing to her? She didn't need to tell him anything. He instinctively seemed to know what she wanted, what she needed, as though her body was a book that he read effortlessly.

His attentions drifted lower, down her stomach and the very top of her thighs where her legs met her body. He tugged her underclothes down her thighs and discarded them on the floor, his fingers dancing lightly over her skin.

Sliding his hands beneath her backside, he lifted her slightly, moving gently, and then dropped his lips to the sensitive spot between her legs and went to work.

It was like lightning. Lily's moans were soft, high-pitched, almost desperate. She tried to gasp out a plea, a demand, but nothing came out.

"Oskar," she finally managed to gasp through the spiraling haze of sensations that were spinning through her.

He didn't let up, instead picking up the pace, his mouth working rapidly. She tangled her hands in his hair as that haze of sensation began to grow.

Her breaths were coming in short bursts now, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. She could feel the heat building, threatening to engulf her.

"Oskar..." she gasped, her voice hoarse.

He looked up at her, his eyes dark and intense, his expression a mixture of hunger and tenderness. He nodded, understanding the unspoken plea in that word.

He plunged inside her, his fingers replacing his mouth, working her expertly. Her moans grew louder, more desperate.

"Oh..." she cried out, her voice echoing through the room. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna..."

Her body tensed and she let out a loud cry as a wave of pleasure washed over her, stronger than anything she'd experienced before. He continued to stroke her until the last tremors subsided and then propped himself on one elbow beside her.

"My God, Lily," he rasped, his voice thick. "Ye are so beautiful."

"Oskar..." Lily replied, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of embarrassment and desire. "I...I don't know what came over me. I've never felt anything quite like that. That was amazing."

"It was beautiful, Lily," Oskar assured her, his fingers tracing gentle lines down her arms. "And so were ye."

The room spun as Lily lay there, her breaths coming out in short bursts and her body still trembling from the aftermath of the most intense pleasure she had ever experienced. She glanced over at Oskar, who was still watching her with an intensity that made her insides melt. He had this habit of making her feel like the center of the universe.

She reached for his face, her fingers tracing the lines of his handsome features, the rough stubble on his chin, and the tender curve of his lips that had tasted her with such intoxicating passion.

"Oskar," she breathed, her heart hammering in her chest, "I want more. I want everything."

He moaned as she trailed her fingers down the contours of his thickly muscled chest, then under the band of his breeches. She wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft and began to slowly caress.

"Lily," he said, his voice so deep she felt it rumbling through his chest. "Ye must stop. Otherwise I will have to take ye and I fear I might hurt ye."

"You won't," she said, kissing his jawline as she continued to stroke him. "You won't ever hurt me."

She knelt above him, working him with one hand, kissing him gently down his neck and shoulders and Oskar's hands trailed lightly, gently down her back, tracing the long scar along her spine. Nobody had ever touched her there and instead of pain, she felt a shiver of ecstasy.

Heat began to gather in her again and she realized that this man, this strong, rough, and tender man, had opened up a door inside her that only he could close.

Oskar growled low in his throat, the roughness in his voice reflecting the storm brewing beneath his skin. She could feel his erection pulsating against her hand, the sensation sending jolts of electricity to her core. He kicked off his breeches and gripped her waist then rolled onto his back beneath her and lifted her on top of him.

She slowly lowered herself onto him, feeling him slide inside. And suddenly she felt whole, complete, in a way she never had before. He groaned softly, each movement making her own desire intensify.

As she fully enveloped him, Oskar looked up at the ceiling, his jaw clenched, his teeth gritting. She felt him surge inside her, filling her completely, his fingers digging into her hips.

"Lily," he panted, his breath hot against her neck as he thrust up into her. "Ye are mine."

He reached up, still inside her, guiding her hips gently as he began to rock back and forth. His hands gripped her waist as they moved together and she moaned softly, her body resonating with every thrust, a delicious tingling radiating up from where their bodies met.

The room was filled with the sound of their lovemaking—the slap of flesh against flesh, the soft, breathy moans that escaped her lips as he thrust into her with increasing abandon.

Oskar's hands never let go of her waist, his grip tightening as his hips thrust harder, his eyes locked on hers. Lily's breaths were ragged, her voice rough as she cried out his name, her nails digging into his shoulders as she rode him.

How could this be real? How could her body withstand these kinds of sensations? She was starting to come apart, starting to drown under the weight of awareness coursing through her.

As her moans and gasps filled the room, Oskar's eyes went dark. He leaned up, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "I'm about to lose control, Lily."

And with that, he let go. He thrust harder, faster, his body moving in synchronicity with hers as they both neared the brink. Their skin slapped together, their hips moved in rhythm, sweat dripped down their foreheads.

Lily's fingers dug into his shoulders, and she arched her back, meeting each thrust as her climax exploded and she shuddered, her eyes sliding closed, lost in a sea of pleasure.

Oskar's movements became erratic, his body jerking with each thrust. He grunted, his voice rough with desire as he too reached his climax. As his body shook and trembled, he collapsed onto the rug beneath her, gasping for air. Lily lay on top of him, her body still quivering from the aftermath, her heart swelling with affection for this man who had opened up a world of pleasure and desire.

Slowly, Lily began to ease herself off him, her legs shaking as she tried to regain her balance. Oskar rolled over, wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled into his embrace, her heart still pounding with the intensity of their lovemaking.

"I can't believe what just happened," she whispered, her voice as soft as a whisper.

"Neither can I," Oskar replied, running his fingers lightly through her hair. "But I can tell ye one thing, Lily. I never want to stop exploring this world with ye." Then his expression turned serious. "I didnae hurt ye, did I?"

Lily shook her head, her voice heavy. "No, Oskar. You didn't hurt me."

"I promise I willnae ever hurt ye, Lily. But I canna promise that I'll always be able to control myself around ye."

Lily laughed softly, her breath stirring his hair. "I don't think I want you to control yourself, Oskar. I like the way you lose control around me."

He pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Then why dinna we lose control a little more?"

She nodded, a grin spreading across her face. "Yes, why don't we do that?"