Autumn Moon Read Online Free PDF Page B

scent rose to tease his sanity, a mixture of moonflowers that bloomed in her garden and the sweetness that was her.
    â€œDon’t what?” She leaned forward and almost drove all thoughts of resistance from his mind.
    His body was weak,
and impatient
, considering her nearness after all these years of waiting; it awakened an inconvenient response. He may be new to this business, but even he understood it wasn’t a good time for that. Regardless, he could correct a misunderstanding without making her aware of his uncomfortable predicament. “Don’t regret what you’ve given me. You
freed
me from a half existence. I’m not sorry. I’ll never be sorry.”
    Her gaze returned to meet his, filled with uncertainty. “Then why?” She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. “Why haven’t you told me this sooner? Why have you stayed away? Why have you avoided me?” The questions flowed like rivers in spring. “I thought we were friends.”
    Her last insult saved him from babbling like an idiot. She wasn’t ready to hear what desires haunted his soul. Like boiling blood through his veins, he wanted her with a fierceness that would frighten her. “I needed to learn how to be human.”
    â€œBut I would have helped you.”
    â€œI know.” He cringed at the thought. “But there are some things a man needs to learn on his own. Private things.”
    â€œBut we’re Celts.” She scoffed as if he’d made a tasteless joke. “Since when do you value privacy?”
    Since I’ve been given a chance to have you.
Needing to put an end to her questions, he provided a reason she couldn’t refute. “Yes, I am a Celt, which is why I deserve to have my will respected.”
    And, more importantly, his pride.
    That first week in an unfamiliar body was not a story for her ears, or the months that followed. Accounts of him dripping soup down his chin or fumbling with buttons and shoelaces.Forming his first words and bumbling the sounds. Or slicing his leg while learning how to swing a sword. Having his face crisscrossed with cuts like an adolescent teen after shaving.
    Or enthusiastic body parts that arose every morning without fail. And, yes, their race was known to openly love without shame, and not to judge, as it should be, but Celts also respected each individual’s journey and preference.
    And his was, and always would be, Elen. He’d waited centuries for her. Was it too much to ask that she wait a few months for him to be worthy of her?
    â€œI’m a doctor,” she added when her first argument failed. “And I was a healer long before that title came about. I can assure you there’s nothing I haven’t seen.”
    He hadn’t needed the reminder. His loneliest times had been during her excursions to learn various medicinal techniques. She’d studied at monasteries, temples, conferences, hospitals and universities. And he hadn’t been able to travel with her without attracting dangerous attention.
    â€œLet it go, Elen . . .
please
.” When she winced, he realized he’d spoken too harshly. Was an apology in order? He believed it was, but if he offered one, would it put an end to her questions—or welcome more? He wanted her to see him as a worthy mate, and not an invalid to be nursed. But her heart was too pure to understand, so he kept silent; a safer option that saved him from sticking his tongue farther into the mud.
    â€œFine,” she eventually said. “You obviously didn’t want my help six months ago, and I won’t force it on you now.” She turned and continued walking.
    Cormack ran a hand through his hair. This business of talking was a complicated thing. He’d hurt her again, he knew. If not an apology, he probably should say something at least. “Thank you.”
    He didn’t receive a reply.
    *   *   *
    Tears gathered in