She's just waiting for him to run out the door. She doesn't know what to expect; she's never done anything like this before, and, when it comes to men who keep a number of women on their hip, she's lost.

But he isn't running. Not yet, anyhow. She shifts to accommodate him when he sits beside her, eyes dropping to the graze on her bicep.

"That's when I was shot, out in the stables — "

His hand stops at her elbow and he curses, and she realizes he hadn't meant the scar. Her eyes flick to the bruise. It takes a minute for her to answer, and in that time he starts talking so much she isn't sure how to interrupt him. She shakes her head.

"No. No, this wasn't you. This was jus' an accident. Shh, don't worry."

She breathes a soft laugh, tipping forward to drop a kiss to his collarbone.