God, how he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it stunned him, too badly for him to do as he wished. She wanted him, too. He knew that if he kissed her, they would end up spending the night together. It would be the worst thing he could possibly do for her.

Her admission had made her too vulnerable. If he made love to her now, she would forever wonder if he’d done so out of pity or want. Marcus had been right. This lass, intoxicating as she was, didn’t know how to play this game. He knew it all too well. He had an unfair advantage over her. He was older than her and no longer unsure of the man he was or what he wanted. He would wait until the game could be fair. He very much suspected that once she learned to let go and learned to embrace who she really was—once she learned to wield the power she already possessed—the wait would be worth it.

He would have to take things slowly with her. He would have to get to know her mind before he could know her soul, and he would need to know her soul before he allowed himself to taste of her body.

Laurel’s fears weren’t unusual. He’d known many women in his life that shared such insecurities. What women rarely could see was that men were often riddled even more with such worries.

She’d not known good men as a child, he was almost certain of it. For lassies surrounded by the best sort of men while still children grow up knowing just how lovely and special they are. Too many fathers discount the role they play in their daughter’s lives—mayhap an even more important one than that of their sons. Raudrich knew that if he were ever lucky enough to be blessed with a daughter, he would make certain she knew that it was she, and not the men in her life, who had the power to rule the world.

Perhaps, Laurel’s time here would show her what good men could be—not that Calder’s ignorant and cruel words had helped the situation. He would see to it that the rest of The Eight began to show her the best time of her life. It wouldn’t take her long. Just a simple shift in her thinking could unleash her from the cage she kept herself in.

He looked down at Laurel as he held her face in his hands and gently bent to kiss her cheek.

“Lass, I do want to hold ye. I want to do so much more than that, but this night is not meant for us. ’Tis already the wee hours of the morning and ye are nearly asleep on yer feet. Go inside before I talk myself out of showing such restraint. Once ye close the door, I shall spell a lock for ye.”

“I am rather tired.”

Turning, she opened the door to his room and entered, but he couldn’t keep from saying one last thing to her before she closed the door to him.

“Laurel, lass, I believe Morna lied to ye. I doona believe she brought ye here so ye could write a book.”

Most nights, they lit their fires by hand so as to reserve their magic, but he didn’t trust himself to step inside his bedchamber with her. With a quick flick of his wrist, he brought his room to light and his knees grew weak at the glint in her eye as she leaned into the doorway.

“Oh, yeah? Why do you think she brought me here then?”

“To heal what is broken inside ye and mayhap to find the love ye are so resistant to.”

Laurel’s brows pulled together and her tone was defiant when she spoke. “I’m not broken, Raudrich.”

He wouldn’t follow down the road she wished to lead him. He could sense it was one of the ways she so often pushed people away.

“Ye know that is not what I said, lass. Every one of us have broken pieces inside us, but we alone are the only ones that can heal them. Until we do, we canna become the people we are meant to be.”

“And you’ve healed all your broken pieces, have you?”

“’Tis work that never ends, lass, but I shall never stop working to heal whatever may fracture inside me. Growing up here makes one less patient with the pain we cause ourselves. Not when ye know that pain could be brought on by another at any time—pain that ye canna control.”

Laurel’s eyes were sad and thoughtful as she gently sighed and closed the door between them.