like a moth to the flame Posted on March 20, 2024 at 02:48:12 AM by Kipling
While her words bit back at the painted male, Kipling did notice his gaze dipped to the sand at their hooves. Then, he flinched. Good. She hoped he felt guilt, shame, something, anything besides the cold mask he had been trying to wear since finding her in the sand. His face suddenly shifted wildly, and he practically screamed at her. It was Kipling's turn to flinch, and she did so. Her mind lept to the conclusion that he would strike her now that he was done playing games with her. Or whatever this affair had been to him. So, she shut her eyes, turning her head away from him as his temper exploded.
"I could not risk your life by staying." This had not been what she expected him to say. Nor had she anticipated Quinn divulging more about his arrangement here with the queen. Yet Kipling couldn't help but wonder how much of what left Quinn's mouth was true. How could she be sure he wasn't lying? Her soft heart melted toward the man, but the mare knew she couldn't, despite the audible emotion that finally swilled behind his words. How could she count on him now?
"I couldn't let her hurt you and our . . . son." Sadness entered her eyes, a coolness washing over the fire of her anger. Had he grasped that she had said 'children?' Had he even been around long enough to know she was pregnant again? Breathing deeply, Kipling pushed away the naive thoughts that asked her to believe he would have come back if he had known. If their living son hadn't been enough, she reasoned with herself, an unborn one wouldn't have been either.
It hurt to see the horror of realization in his eyes as Quinn looked at her. Did he realize now that he'd left her to bear and raise their second child alone? One that had never known his face? She desperately wanted him to care, wanted him to want to make things right somehow. Not that she knew how this could be fixed. The steadiness in her returned, the fire dimming to disappointment. His apology is a gruff whisper, but it enters her ears as clearly as if he'd said them directly next to her: "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."
"You could have left her, Quinn." She exhales, her sides still heaving from exertion. "You could have left her and stayed with me. . and our sons" The mottled mare can only assume that he will deny this or similarly say that it would have been impossible. How many reasons would he list for why he couldn't commit to her or a life at her side? A trembling breath shakes at the urge to reach out to the stallion she had thought she'd known. Kipling steeled herself against all hope before making her offer, not bearing to be able to look straight into his eyes if he denied her. "You still can, Quinn.."