Dammit! His mother had some serious explaining to do.

“I discovered my gift shortly after we came here. I never asked for it, but I’m not ashamed of it either.” Which was true, though he wished he could erase the past few minutes from Helen’s mind and tell her when he felt she was more ready to accept it.

“S-so, what are you? A bird-man?”

He shook his head. “A falcon is convenient. I’m able to scout without detection.”

Her face softened a small margin. “They told me you were scouting alone. It sounded like a suicide mission.”

“Hardly. Only the family knows what I can do. Certainly, our enemy is clueless. My safety, all of our safety, depends on secrecy.”

“Good. I guess.” Her fingers flexed and her brow creased. “You’re okay, then?”

“I’m fine, ’tis you I worry about, lass.”

Helen started to pace, which Simon took as a good sign. Every time she paced she was working a puzzle out in her mind. “Birds? Only birds?”

A lie by omission waited on his lips, but to keep up the disguise now was pointless. “And other forms.”

She stopped. “What other forms?”

“A wolf.”

“Like the one in the woods that first day.”

“Aye. That was me.”

She started the restless walk, again. “The gorillas?”

“No, but I’ve not tried. I’ve taken the form of a shark. Damn uncomfortable breathing underwater.”

She stopped her intrepid pacing and let out a tiny, forced laugh. Her body started to tremble as the stress of the past days clearly caught up with her. Helen buried her face in her hands as she tilted toward the floor.

Simon caught her before she fell, enveloping her in his arms.

Shaking, she buried her head into his bare chest. Simon soothed her cries and offered words of comfort. She’d been through too much. Holding her while she cried was becoming routine. Not that he minded her in his arms, but he’d prefer it be on better terms. The floral feminine scent of her filled his over-enhanced olfactory senses, the ones he had whenever he took on an animal form. A faint scent of lavender he knew the women put in the soap had him pulling in a deep, refreshing breath.

Helen’s palms flattened out over his chest and started a slow inspection. Maybe she was determining if any feathers remained. A simple slide of her fingers over his ni**les made them pebble, brought his c**k to attention.

He needed to stop her assessment of his frame or he’d end up taking advantage of her fragile state. Grasping her hands, he held her still until she moved away enough to look deep into his eyes. Desire leapt up his spine as she tilted her lips to his and lifted on her toes.

A whisper of a kiss met his lips, willingly given by a woman he’d desired from first glance, and he was powerless against it. Dropping her hands, Simon pulled her tiny waist close to him and slanted his lips over hers. They were hot, moist, and open to explore. This wasn’t a stolen kiss, or one born of shock, it was delicious and giving, fulfilling on levels beyond sensation. Want quickly morphed into need as she willingly pressed her body closer. The firm swell of her br**sts met his chest and Simon lifted his hand to touch even more of her offering. Her breath caught as the first swipe of his thumb made her breast pebble.

Helen kissed him harder and ran her hands down his bare back. She stopped at his waist and moved back up, her nails dug in.

He lingered over her mouth, tasting every inch until they were both breathless and in need of air. In the back of his mind, Simon knew he needed to stop this seduction but his body had different plans. A tender spot on Helen’s neck pulsed and Simon nibbled and licked his way lower. He tugged away the loose bodice of her dress, and explored the creamy expanse of the top of her breast. He half expected her to push him away, was elated when she arched back giving him room to take more. The deep rose of her nipple slipped free of her gown and Simon covered it with his mouth. He smiled over her breast as her knees gave way, nearly pulling them both to the floor.

The floor.

He needed to end this or he’d end up taking her on a damp, stone floor. He drew her nipple between his teeth and licked its end one last time before reluctantly releasing it and pulling back.

God she was beautiful. Her lids half closed, her lips opened in invitation. But now wasn’t the time.

Soon.

“W-why did you stop?”

“I care too much for your comfort to take you here in this dingy room.”

He tucked her breast away but kept her close. If he’d learned one thing about the woman in his arms it was that she ran away whenever they stopped holding each other. Simon didn’t want her running.

Like clockwork, she tugged back, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, he dipped his lips to hers for a promising kiss. When she relaxed, he released her lips again.

“You’re making me crazy, Simon.”

He smiled. “Someone is bound to come looking for us. A war rages, or have you forgotten?”

She sighed and dropped back to her flat feet. “Your family catching us kissing once is enough for one lifetime.”

“Aye. Makes it difficult to face my mother without a childish blush.”

“Right.”

“Mayhap when things calm we can explore each other further.”

The blush he spoke of, now filled her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

Simon kissed her forehead and took her palm in his. When he opened the door, they noticed Cian leaning against the outer hall, a smirk played on his lips.

* * * *

Helen hadn’t seen Simon for three days. Three long, nerve-racking days and sleepless nights. While he scanned the Highlands as a falcon, spying on his enemies, the MacCoinnichs rearranged their home to accommodate the growing number of knights flowing in. Laird Ian had many allies and few enemies, which meant the Keep exploded with bodies. The more people who entered, the farther Amber receded into herself. They attempted to begin work on reconstructing the necklace but gave up after only a few hours. Although Helen had only known the woman for a few days, she worried about her health. Each day she grew more pale and said very little.

When she found a moment alone with Myra, Helen asked what she could do. “What’s wrong?”

“’Tis her gift. Her empathy for others reaches beyond those she touches. The weight and worries of the impending battle is on everyone’s minds.”

“And Amber feels everyone’s anxiety?”

“Grief, sorrow, hate—she feels it all. ’Tis worse in the past ten years or so. She’s careful not to touch others, but she doesn’t need her hands to channel her gift.”