Brenna laughed softly. “You don’t want to marry me. Whether or not you hate me makes no difference in the grand scheme of things, because you need to sleep.”
This time, Ciaran turned his head and kissed her. This kiss was slower, sweeter than all the kisses that had come before, but Ciaran felt fire sparking beneath his skin faster than ever before, and he turned, wound his arms around her waist.
Brenna pulled back first. “Sleep,” she said. “Who knows when you’ll get the chance again.”
“Is my bedroll next to yours?”
“If you mean within sword’s reach, yes.”
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