Chibs awoke to the smell of food. "Christ, that smells fucking delicious," he murmured as Aoife came into the room with two hot shepherd's pies. Aoife sat down on the other side of the bed as he gobbled down the food.

"Just before you drifted off earlier, you mentioned that no one else has ever kissed your scars before," Aoife began, tracing the design on the bedspread with her finger and sneaking little glances at Chibs, who had set his empty plate on the nightstand closest to him and was now looking curiously at her. She looked almost shy.

"Aye. Most women find them…off-putting."

"My husband had scars like yours. Had them since he was 16. He gave himself a crude IRA tattoo, and the unionist boys in the neighborhood decided to teach him a lesson. He felt like the scars ruined him, like everyone he ever met was staring at them." As she was talking, she picked up a framed photo from other nightstand and handed it to Chibs. At the center of the smiling wedding party were Aoife and a young man who did indeed have a pattern of scars similar to Chibs'. "Every day of our married life, I would kiss his scars to remind him that I loved every inch of him and thought he was handsome."

"Are ye divorced?" Chibs asked, handing back the photo. She certainly didn't wear a wedding band. Then again, Chibs thought for a painful second, neither did he.

"No. Widowed. We were barely married three years. That feels like a lifetime ago," she said with a sigh, replacing the framed photo and then scooting over so that their hips were mere inches apart. She lapsed into silence, and Chibs placed his hand over hers on the bedspread. He ran his thumb over the back of her hand. "How are you feeling?" Aoife finally asked.

"I've been better," Chibs said with a smile. He looked down at his exposed abdomen and his jaw dropped. His wound was held together with a series of precise, even stitches. "You stitched me up while I was passed out?"

"It wasn't my intention to do it without you being aware, but once you passed out, you were out. Don't worry; I know what I'm doing."

"I can see that. Those stitches are damn near perfect." Chibs replied, impressed.

"Adam was a doctor. We had a lot of IRA friends who couldn't go to hospital. Wanted by the government and all that. Some weeks our house was more like an infirmary than a home." Chibs assumed that Adam was the deceased husband with the Glasgow smile. Then he cocked his head.

"Lass, I'm confused. Earlier, you said that you killed two members of the IRA for murdering your brother. But just now, it sounds like you and your husband were IRA."

"You're not confused. We were. My family was all IRA. That's why my brother's death cut so deep." Chibs' eyes met Aoife's, and her eyes burned with righteous anger even as they filled with tears. "We never betrayed the IRA. The IRA betrayed us." Chibs reached for Aoife and pulled her to him. Her arms went around his neck and she buried her face in his shoulder while she cried softly. Chibs ran his hands through her silky black curls and murmured soothing words. They sat like that until her sobs subsided. In a small voice, Aoife finally said, "I'm sorry. It's only been a few months. The wounds are still raw."

Chibs kissed the top of her head. "You never have to apologize to me for having feelings, lovely." While she cried, Chibs had focused on the unevenness of her breathing and the pitiful sound of her sobs, putting every ounce of effort into being warm and comforting. Now that she was calmer, the places where her skin touched his were on fire. With every inhale, he breathed in the scent of coffee that perfumed her skin and hair. And, sweet Mary, Mother of Christ, she had settled herself on his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs and her arms wrapped around his neck. He wanted to crush her to him, to stake a claim on her body with his hands and lips and teeth, but she seemed delicate and fragile in this moment. She shifted her weight on his legs and he knew she had to feel how rock hard he was. He stared into her eyes and watched the flickering emotions: uncertainty, nervousness, but also, he was fairly certain, desire. "Lass, I want to kiss you," he breathed.

She blushed and smiled at him, and they closed the short distance between their lips. Her lips were soft and full, and he could feel her smiling. She moved her hands to cup his face, and he tangled his fingers in her hair. Chibs let her guide the kiss, and soon he felt her tongue press for entrance into his mouth. He met it with his own, and then Aoife's hands were running through his hair. He opened his eyes when her lips pulled away from his, only to close them again as she kissed her way up his jaw and then down his neck. Her lips and tongue moved slowly, sensuously, and he fisted one hand in her hair while the other slid down to curl possessively around her hip.

He flipped her over onto her back then, using his ropey arm muscles to hold him above her while his lips began their assault on her collarbone. He kissed his way to the hollow of her throat, relishing the soft whines that escaped her lips as he licked and kissed her creamy skin, using the tip of his tongue to dot every freckle. Aoife brought her hands to his chest and began lightly sliding her nails across his flesh. Chibs' pleasure evaporated in a split-second as one of her nails scraped the topmost stitch, and he hissed in pain.

A horrified look spread across Aoife's features. "Oh, fuck! Filip, I'm so sorry." She propped herself up and examined the stitches. "I don't think I damaged the stitches, but I feel so stupid. I should have known better. I –" Chibs silenced her with a brief kiss on the lips.

"No harm done, lass. The pain was temporary. I don't regret anything that just happened."

"I've wanted to kiss you since I first saw you in the garage that day," she confessed. "It's just – let's – let's not rush. I have a lot of baggage to get through."

Chibs couldn't deny that part of him wanted to rip Aoife's clothes off right then, but that irrational part of his brain could be ignored. The kiss had only verified what some unconscious part of him had already known: he would wait as long as Aoife needed because she was worth waiting for. "As slow as you want to go, love," Chibs assured her. "I could kiss you all day."

Aoife blushed. "Maybe some day you'll get the chance. But for now, I'm going to insist that you get more rest. You're still pale."

Chibs considered arguing, but then Aoife pushed him gently back on his pillow, scooted up against his right side, and laid her head down on his chest. "Aye, ma'am," he agreed with a soft smile, closing his eyes and enjoying the warmth of her body curled up next to his. He put one hand behind his head and let the other one rest in her hair, twisting curls around his finger until he drifted back to sleep.