Red, p.11
Red, page 11
“If I did, why would I be here? Do you always ask questions with such obvious answers or is today a special occasion?” Out of the corner of my eye I see Conrad pull his lips in, trying to hide a smile despite the tense situation. Garrett’s nostrils flare and the muscles in his jaw bulge as he clenches and unclenches his jaw.
He says slowly, voice full of irritation and malice, “Then why did you no’ go back to the village then?”
“That’s none of your concern,” I spit back.
"Why will you no’ leave? Just go back tae Silverwood, damn you! Go back where you belong!" he roars the words so loudly that Archer whinnies and stomps the ground in response.
"I can't!" I shriek back, shoving him in the chest. He doesn’t so much as flinch, though one brow does arch up in surprise. "Don't you get it!? I can’t go back! Would I be here begging you to stay when you so obviously want me gone if I had a choice!?" I shove at his chest again. Once. Twice. He lets me, making no move to stop my assault though he could easily. Hot, angry tears well in my eyes and I will them not to fall. I swipe angrily at them with the back of my hand. Just as quickly as the rage reached its fever pitch, it’s extinguished to embers. My shoulders slump in defeat as everything just comes crashing down. "I can't go back there. I...I just can't," I say softly. “My grandmother is gone and I can’t go back. I have nowhere else to go.”
"That's enough." Conrad steps forward, putting his body between Garrett and myself, casting Garrett a disappointed look before turning to face me. Seeming to understand that I don't want charity, don't want him to just offer me one of the many empty rooms within the vast home and to be an eternal houseguest, he says, "Sloane, I would be happy to have you here as a member of the staff. I'm not as spry as I used to be and could use some help. I've been saying it for years, but as you can imagine, finding assistance is a bit troublesome out here. You'll be given lodging, food, clothing, and earn ten—"
"Fifteen," Garrett cuts in roughly.
Conrad's lips twitch. "Fifteen kreels a week, of course." I nearly fall out. I earned five kreels a month from Duncan and that's only if we had a steady stream of patrons. If not, I was lucky just to have food and my loft and the clothes on my back.
"No, that's too much, I can't possibly—"
"You'll take it with no complaints," Conrad cuts me off firmly but kindly. I have no choice but to nod my head. "Now, please go ahead inside and warm up by the fire. We'll be in shortly, I just need to have a quick word with his Grace." He rolls his eyes at the title but his tone is one of a father who is about to have a stern word with his son.
I cut my eyes to Garrett for a quick moment, but pull them away again quickly when I find him staring at me. I don't want to know what he thinks of my outburst or my confession. I'm scared that I'll see pity in his eyes if I look too closely and I can stomach almost anything but that. Pity from Garrett would destroy me...though his vehement dismissal doesn't feel lovely either. I don't understand why he wants me gone so damned badly.
A thought that should have been obvious from the beginning rises: maybe he has other women that he's courting and needed to get rid of me quickly before one of them arrived. The thought makes jealousy spike once more. I take a deep breath and make myself forget about such things. If he has a whole harem, it is none of my business. He can do what he pleases. We are nothing to each other.
Or, I suppose, more accurately, he is now my employer and I am a member of his staff.
Nothing more.
I TRIED TO CONVINCE Conrad to move me to chambers that were far more appropriate for a member of the staff, but he refused, so I've been staying in the original room with the glorious bathtub all these weeks.
I've mostly tried to avoid Garrett, which is proving easier than I thought it would be. Sometimes I walk into a room and see the barest glimpse of his back as he exits through another door. It's as if he knows where I'm going to be before I'm there, like he's a soothsayer and knows the future before it happens. Though I was welcome, I had politely declined the invitation to dine with Conrad and Garett each night, choosing instead to eat in the kitchen or up in my chamber. After two weeks of it, Conrad had begun inviting me to dine with him alone out on the terrace or in the large library some nights. Those invitations I had accepted with a smile. The old man was quickly becoming the father I never had but had longed for my entire life. He'd never pushed, but gently hinted that I should give Garrett the benefit of the doubt and try to mend our broken bridges. I knew that he was right and that I needed to get past my feelings, but...I wasn't ready yet.
Well, my mind and heart weren't ready, but my traitorous body sure was. Each glimpse of him sent spikes of desire through me, each one stronger than the next. I'd caught sight of him tending to Archer after they'd returned from a hunt and had nearly dropped the entire basket of mushrooms and berries I'd collected. He had shucked his tunic and was brushing the horse down shirtless. I'd stood there, mouth agape, mesmerized by the muscles of his broad back as they'd moved in practiced movements over Archer's large body. Sweat trickled down his spine and my fingers clenched the handle of my basket so tightly I thought it may snap the thin wood. I'd never thought of a man's back as being anything that could be particularly attractive or unattractive, but in that moment, I'd understand how wrong I'd been. He'd turned slightly as he ran his hand through his hair, giving me a glimpse of the taught muscles of his torso, those indecent dips beside his hips. I'd caught myself licking my lips and immediately turned, running as fast as I could for the kitchens.
Another evening, I'd rounded a corner and run directly into him. He clutched me as we both staggered, and the searing heat of his body against mine had made me lightheaded. I believe I imagined the fact that he seemed to hold me a second longer than necessary, fingers flexing where they held my hips and back, before he politely steadied me and stepped away. He nodded in that courtly manner and went about his business, quickly disappearing down a darkened hallway. I'd stood there breathless for far longer than I'd care to admit before continuing on. Though I was still angry and terse with him, Garrett was nothing but cordial after his initial anger over my employment. I don't know if that makes me more or less irritated.
Overall, I've found myself enjoying being back to my somewhat normal life, though working here is far more enjoyable than working at the Maiden’s Hearth. I help Conrad in the kitchens for most meals and he's taught me new and amazing recipes. They have so much at their disposal I'm already brimming with ideas of things to try. He graciously handed over tending of the horses to me since he could tell how much joy I found in the task. Dusting, washing linens, helping Conrad re-arrange the books in the gigantic library for no other reason than he "needed a bit of a change." Everything I've been given to do has barely even seemed like work at all.
We begin to fall into lovely rhythms and I feel as if I've been here for years instead weeks. The next full moon passes without incident, though I again find myself watching raptly from the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature that has haunted our village for longer than I can remember. I don't see much, only hear the howling, the growling...the screams. I wonder if I'll ever grow used to them.
Though there is always work to be done, I still have lots of time to myself to do with what I please. I've explored most of the manor, awed by the sprawling staircases and soaring arches, the gorgeous woodwork and the exquisite detailing on every tapestry and rug. Almost every hallway is filled with more of those beautiful paintings, each one more alluring than the last. I've tried to peek inside the studio once or twice, but it's always remained locked and I haven’t pried. I’m sure the curiosity will get the better of me sooner or later though.
Conrad caught me eyeing all of the books in the library as we re-arranged the shelves and gave me permission to read any and all that I liked. I could scarcely imagine all of the stories and worlds that awaited me between those pages. I’d only learned the very basics of reading in school before Duncan had decided me helping him at the Maiden was more important than my education, but I’d (painstakingly) taught myself the rest. I only had a handful of books in my loft, but I’d read them all so much that the spines had begun to fall apart. Now, I was picking a new book every few nights and reading in front of my fire late into the night.
I'd been wondering about provisions. How do we get them? Where do they come from? I'd never seen Conrad or Garrett in the village before, and though that doesn't necessarily mean that they didn't come, I feel like I would have caught sight (or heard talk) of them at least once over the years. So I finally asked one evening as I helped Conrad make stew.
"Other than the meat from the animals Garrett kills—"
"I'm not slouch hunter myself, thank you very much," the old man had cut in in a playfully affronted tone. I'd laughed and held up my palms.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Other than the meat from the animals that you and Garrett both hunt valiantly, where do we get provisions?"
"They're delivered to us directly by a chap named Bear."
"Bear?"
"Bear," he said with a hard nod. "I have no idea if it's his given name, or a nickname based on his size, and never thought it polite to ask." I sniggered. "But Bear's family has long provided the manor with this service. In fact," he raised his eyes as if thinking, "he'll be here in a few days. You can meet him."
"Looking forward to it. But..." My brows drew down. "Why not just go to Silverwood? Surely it's closer than wherever Bear must travel from?"
"We...do not care to visit the village," was all he'd said in a strange tone, though one that made it clear he had no plans to elaborate. Perhaps they had some bad blood with someone there? Garrett's family had founded it, but there had been no McAvoys in Silverwood for quite some time. Interesting indeed...
I met Bear and he indeed lived up to the name. He was quite possibly the largest man I’d ever met, as well as the sweetest, and I immediately took a liking to him. Though his final words to me before departing were fairly odd, my instincts told me to listen to the man. I promised him I would and he promised to bring me some of his wife’s famed sweets on his next trip.
A week or so later, I'd casually mentioned perhaps adding some fabric to our next delivery of provisions so that I could make myself some more clothes (though I'd been given plenty of beautiful dresses of Bianca's, I still wanted to have my own things) and a few days later, Conrad led me to a room filled with hundreds of different types and colors. Yards upon yards of silks and cashmeres and many I'd never even seen before. I'd stood awestruck for I don't know how long before I could find words.
"How...why...I'd only meant a few yards of linen perhaps, or possibly some of the old bedsheets! Conrad, this is insane!"
He'd laughed lightly and shrugged as he said quietly, "It was not my doing." I spun around, mouth agape. He merely smiled and left me on my own to explore. Garrett had done this. He'd had these brought here for me, but I didn't understand why.
I still don't understand his motivations, but I have a closet full of dresses, tunics, sheaths, and several pairs of trousers that I'd made from the softest, most supple leather I'd ever touched, so I can't complain one bit.
Done with my work for the day, I pull on a pair of those magnificent trousers and a soft white tunic, and make my way down to the cove. Even after two months, I still feel a strange need to come to the cove almost every day, even if just for a moment, as if to assure myself that it's real. It's like I need to always have one last fresh look at my small piece of heaven should this fantasy somehow disappear and I find myself back in my drafty loft, freezing and hungry once more.
I shuck my boots and dig my toes into the sand, watching the setting sun as it bathes the entire cove in deep orange and pink light. There's something magical about this cove when the sun finally releases its grasp and consents to the moon taking over her duties for the evening, quietly dipping down below the surface of the sea to rest. There is a small window of time, no more than a few moments, between that very last ray of sunlight and when the stars appear, when it's as if the entire world holds its breath, everything becoming still and calm and perfect.
The magic moment passes and then the stars begin to twinkle above the sea, now black as the night surrounding it, turning the cove into a whole new world. Each moment here somehow becomes my favorite. During the day, there is nothing more beautiful than the way the sunlight glimmers off of the blue-green water and the way the birds and sea creatures play, the way the sun beats down and warms my skin despite the fact that snow is on the horizon. Then there's the moments before sunset, when the sky alights in those gorgeous tendrils of pinks and oranges and reds, and every time in those moments, I swear nothing has ever looked so perfect, as if the gods themselves hand painted the sky. Then comes the night and I forget every other time that has ever existed inside this cove. The stars sparkle above and reflect off of the water, making it look like thousands of diamonds strewn across a midnight desert. The moon turns the sand into a blanket of silver crystals. Even the sound of the waves is somehow different at night, more relaxed, lulling, whereas during the day it seems loud and playful.
I find myself gently swaying back and forth to the sound of the waves when I hear a sharp inhale of breath behind me. I whirl and find Garrett a few feet away. His eyes are still focused low on my body and it's a heartbeat before he snaps them upward once more. Had he been staring at my backside? The thought makes me want to grin—the trousers are admittedly well-fitted through that area. This is the first time I've even seen him at all in almost two weeks. Not that I'm keeping track of such things of course.
My breath catches in my throat at seeing him again. My anger and hurt had been dissipating over these weeks, and as my eyes roam over him, they all but fade to nothing. The only thing I'm feeling in this moment is wanting. His dark hair is even more unruly than usual, as if he'd just been running his fingers through it. His scruff is a bit more prominent than before, but just as tempting as ever. More so even. His shirt is mostly unbuttoned, showing off his muscled chest and top half of his stomach. His scars are silver in the moonlight and I want to kiss them, somehow erase the pain that caused them. Then I want to continue kissing across that magnificent chest, down the hard planes of his stomach, lower still. I imagine myself before him now, doing just that, tearing the laces of his trousers open in a frenzy and dropping to my knees before him. I can practically hear his gasp in my ears as I nuzzle the small patch of hair leading from his navel downward. "Sloane," he'd groan in that rumbling voice as I pulled him free. I lick my lips as I imagine running my tongue over the moistened tip of his thick cockstand, before he gently feeds it between my lips...
"-oane?" I yank myself out of my thoughts, startled by how vivid my imaginings had become. My chest is rising and falling in shallow bursts and heat and moisture pool between my legs. "Sloane?" he says again, eyes burning and brows drawn slightly. His own chest seems to be heaving a bit, doesn't it? Does he feel it too?
"I...I'm sorry, what?"
"Are you alright? You seem..." He swallows hard, throat bobbing before I cut him off.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I say quickly, embarrassed and practically shivering with need.
"I..." He runs his fingers through his hair, somehow making an even more of a mess of it, and exhales roughly. "Where did you get those??" he asks accusingly, pointing at my pants, though I don't believe that was what he originally planned to say. Need forgotten for a moment, I narrow my eyes and put my hands on my hips. I am so sick of a woman wearing trousers being something to get in an uproar about! I thought Garrett would be more...worldly than the folks in Silverwood, but apparently not.
"I made them and before you even begin to tell me that I shouldn’t be wearing them, I'll have you know—"
"Should no' be wearing them? Gods woman, you should wear nothing but them." He runs a hand down his mouth. My eyes widen and he drops his hand, his own eyes widening as well, as if realizing what he's said out loud. "I just meant...um they're very...becoming on you." I fight a smile and a tension I hadn't noticed begins to ease inside my chest. It takes me a moment to realize what it is: I'd missed him. Even though we'd only spent a matter of hours together before the full moon, they were important hours, hours where I felt connected to another person in a way I never had before, even with Kieran. And I missed it, damn it. I sigh. I'd lost my only friend when I ran from the village, but I know that I could have another in Garrett. Of course I still want him physically—anyone would for gods' sake—and my feelings may run slightly deeper than friendship alone, but I would rather have friendship than nothing. I think it's time to put the past behind us and start over. As friends. I can do that...can't I?
"What brings you down to the cove?" I ask, trying to make friendly conversation.
"I was looking for you, actually." My brows arch upwards and my chest warms. He was looking for me? A moment later, realization hits. Oh. Of course, he's looking for me to assist him with something. You work for him, remember? I chide myself silently. Though it isn't rational, I'm irritated. He usually does his best to act as if I don't work for him. He doesn't ask me to do anything for him if he can help it, preferring to ask Conrad alone or doing it himself. Now he wants to act like my employer, even coming down to my cove at night to ask something of me? Not rational, not rational, not rational...and yet: I'm irritated.
"Do you need something? Bed turned down?" I eye his half-unbuttoned shirt and his mussed hair. Oh gods. "Are you entertaining company and in need of wine and glasses to be brought to your room perhaps?" The words come out far sharper than I intend and I curse my temper and tongue.
He looks wholly confused for a moment, but then he arches one dark brow in that way that I hate...but really love. A smirk appears on his gorgeous lips. I force myself not to remember what those lips felt like against my own.
"Why yes actually. I am entertaining a female companion upstairs and we would adore wine." My eyes go wide. I'd said it in bitter jest, I didn't think he'd actually have a lover here! I hadn't seen hide nor hair of one in all the time I've been here, though that didn't mean none had been here I suppose... "Actually there are two of them." My mouth gapes. Two women?? He rubs two fingers across his jaw, as if in deep thought. "Oh shite, did I say two? I meant three. I daresay I'm going tae have my hands verra full this evening. Probably best tae bring a few bottles up."
He says slowly, voice full of irritation and malice, “Then why did you no’ go back to the village then?”
“That’s none of your concern,” I spit back.
"Why will you no’ leave? Just go back tae Silverwood, damn you! Go back where you belong!" he roars the words so loudly that Archer whinnies and stomps the ground in response.
"I can't!" I shriek back, shoving him in the chest. He doesn’t so much as flinch, though one brow does arch up in surprise. "Don't you get it!? I can’t go back! Would I be here begging you to stay when you so obviously want me gone if I had a choice!?" I shove at his chest again. Once. Twice. He lets me, making no move to stop my assault though he could easily. Hot, angry tears well in my eyes and I will them not to fall. I swipe angrily at them with the back of my hand. Just as quickly as the rage reached its fever pitch, it’s extinguished to embers. My shoulders slump in defeat as everything just comes crashing down. "I can't go back there. I...I just can't," I say softly. “My grandmother is gone and I can’t go back. I have nowhere else to go.”
"That's enough." Conrad steps forward, putting his body between Garrett and myself, casting Garrett a disappointed look before turning to face me. Seeming to understand that I don't want charity, don't want him to just offer me one of the many empty rooms within the vast home and to be an eternal houseguest, he says, "Sloane, I would be happy to have you here as a member of the staff. I'm not as spry as I used to be and could use some help. I've been saying it for years, but as you can imagine, finding assistance is a bit troublesome out here. You'll be given lodging, food, clothing, and earn ten—"
"Fifteen," Garrett cuts in roughly.
Conrad's lips twitch. "Fifteen kreels a week, of course." I nearly fall out. I earned five kreels a month from Duncan and that's only if we had a steady stream of patrons. If not, I was lucky just to have food and my loft and the clothes on my back.
"No, that's too much, I can't possibly—"
"You'll take it with no complaints," Conrad cuts me off firmly but kindly. I have no choice but to nod my head. "Now, please go ahead inside and warm up by the fire. We'll be in shortly, I just need to have a quick word with his Grace." He rolls his eyes at the title but his tone is one of a father who is about to have a stern word with his son.
I cut my eyes to Garrett for a quick moment, but pull them away again quickly when I find him staring at me. I don't want to know what he thinks of my outburst or my confession. I'm scared that I'll see pity in his eyes if I look too closely and I can stomach almost anything but that. Pity from Garrett would destroy me...though his vehement dismissal doesn't feel lovely either. I don't understand why he wants me gone so damned badly.
A thought that should have been obvious from the beginning rises: maybe he has other women that he's courting and needed to get rid of me quickly before one of them arrived. The thought makes jealousy spike once more. I take a deep breath and make myself forget about such things. If he has a whole harem, it is none of my business. He can do what he pleases. We are nothing to each other.
Or, I suppose, more accurately, he is now my employer and I am a member of his staff.
Nothing more.
I TRIED TO CONVINCE Conrad to move me to chambers that were far more appropriate for a member of the staff, but he refused, so I've been staying in the original room with the glorious bathtub all these weeks.
I've mostly tried to avoid Garrett, which is proving easier than I thought it would be. Sometimes I walk into a room and see the barest glimpse of his back as he exits through another door. It's as if he knows where I'm going to be before I'm there, like he's a soothsayer and knows the future before it happens. Though I was welcome, I had politely declined the invitation to dine with Conrad and Garett each night, choosing instead to eat in the kitchen or up in my chamber. After two weeks of it, Conrad had begun inviting me to dine with him alone out on the terrace or in the large library some nights. Those invitations I had accepted with a smile. The old man was quickly becoming the father I never had but had longed for my entire life. He'd never pushed, but gently hinted that I should give Garrett the benefit of the doubt and try to mend our broken bridges. I knew that he was right and that I needed to get past my feelings, but...I wasn't ready yet.
Well, my mind and heart weren't ready, but my traitorous body sure was. Each glimpse of him sent spikes of desire through me, each one stronger than the next. I'd caught sight of him tending to Archer after they'd returned from a hunt and had nearly dropped the entire basket of mushrooms and berries I'd collected. He had shucked his tunic and was brushing the horse down shirtless. I'd stood there, mouth agape, mesmerized by the muscles of his broad back as they'd moved in practiced movements over Archer's large body. Sweat trickled down his spine and my fingers clenched the handle of my basket so tightly I thought it may snap the thin wood. I'd never thought of a man's back as being anything that could be particularly attractive or unattractive, but in that moment, I'd understand how wrong I'd been. He'd turned slightly as he ran his hand through his hair, giving me a glimpse of the taught muscles of his torso, those indecent dips beside his hips. I'd caught myself licking my lips and immediately turned, running as fast as I could for the kitchens.
Another evening, I'd rounded a corner and run directly into him. He clutched me as we both staggered, and the searing heat of his body against mine had made me lightheaded. I believe I imagined the fact that he seemed to hold me a second longer than necessary, fingers flexing where they held my hips and back, before he politely steadied me and stepped away. He nodded in that courtly manner and went about his business, quickly disappearing down a darkened hallway. I'd stood there breathless for far longer than I'd care to admit before continuing on. Though I was still angry and terse with him, Garrett was nothing but cordial after his initial anger over my employment. I don't know if that makes me more or less irritated.
Overall, I've found myself enjoying being back to my somewhat normal life, though working here is far more enjoyable than working at the Maiden’s Hearth. I help Conrad in the kitchens for most meals and he's taught me new and amazing recipes. They have so much at their disposal I'm already brimming with ideas of things to try. He graciously handed over tending of the horses to me since he could tell how much joy I found in the task. Dusting, washing linens, helping Conrad re-arrange the books in the gigantic library for no other reason than he "needed a bit of a change." Everything I've been given to do has barely even seemed like work at all.
We begin to fall into lovely rhythms and I feel as if I've been here for years instead weeks. The next full moon passes without incident, though I again find myself watching raptly from the window, trying to catch a glimpse of the creature that has haunted our village for longer than I can remember. I don't see much, only hear the howling, the growling...the screams. I wonder if I'll ever grow used to them.
Though there is always work to be done, I still have lots of time to myself to do with what I please. I've explored most of the manor, awed by the sprawling staircases and soaring arches, the gorgeous woodwork and the exquisite detailing on every tapestry and rug. Almost every hallway is filled with more of those beautiful paintings, each one more alluring than the last. I've tried to peek inside the studio once or twice, but it's always remained locked and I haven’t pried. I’m sure the curiosity will get the better of me sooner or later though.
Conrad caught me eyeing all of the books in the library as we re-arranged the shelves and gave me permission to read any and all that I liked. I could scarcely imagine all of the stories and worlds that awaited me between those pages. I’d only learned the very basics of reading in school before Duncan had decided me helping him at the Maiden was more important than my education, but I’d (painstakingly) taught myself the rest. I only had a handful of books in my loft, but I’d read them all so much that the spines had begun to fall apart. Now, I was picking a new book every few nights and reading in front of my fire late into the night.
I'd been wondering about provisions. How do we get them? Where do they come from? I'd never seen Conrad or Garrett in the village before, and though that doesn't necessarily mean that they didn't come, I feel like I would have caught sight (or heard talk) of them at least once over the years. So I finally asked one evening as I helped Conrad make stew.
"Other than the meat from the animals Garrett kills—"
"I'm not slouch hunter myself, thank you very much," the old man had cut in in a playfully affronted tone. I'd laughed and held up my palms.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Other than the meat from the animals that you and Garrett both hunt valiantly, where do we get provisions?"
"They're delivered to us directly by a chap named Bear."
"Bear?"
"Bear," he said with a hard nod. "I have no idea if it's his given name, or a nickname based on his size, and never thought it polite to ask." I sniggered. "But Bear's family has long provided the manor with this service. In fact," he raised his eyes as if thinking, "he'll be here in a few days. You can meet him."
"Looking forward to it. But..." My brows drew down. "Why not just go to Silverwood? Surely it's closer than wherever Bear must travel from?"
"We...do not care to visit the village," was all he'd said in a strange tone, though one that made it clear he had no plans to elaborate. Perhaps they had some bad blood with someone there? Garrett's family had founded it, but there had been no McAvoys in Silverwood for quite some time. Interesting indeed...
I met Bear and he indeed lived up to the name. He was quite possibly the largest man I’d ever met, as well as the sweetest, and I immediately took a liking to him. Though his final words to me before departing were fairly odd, my instincts told me to listen to the man. I promised him I would and he promised to bring me some of his wife’s famed sweets on his next trip.
A week or so later, I'd casually mentioned perhaps adding some fabric to our next delivery of provisions so that I could make myself some more clothes (though I'd been given plenty of beautiful dresses of Bianca's, I still wanted to have my own things) and a few days later, Conrad led me to a room filled with hundreds of different types and colors. Yards upon yards of silks and cashmeres and many I'd never even seen before. I'd stood awestruck for I don't know how long before I could find words.
"How...why...I'd only meant a few yards of linen perhaps, or possibly some of the old bedsheets! Conrad, this is insane!"
He'd laughed lightly and shrugged as he said quietly, "It was not my doing." I spun around, mouth agape. He merely smiled and left me on my own to explore. Garrett had done this. He'd had these brought here for me, but I didn't understand why.
I still don't understand his motivations, but I have a closet full of dresses, tunics, sheaths, and several pairs of trousers that I'd made from the softest, most supple leather I'd ever touched, so I can't complain one bit.
Done with my work for the day, I pull on a pair of those magnificent trousers and a soft white tunic, and make my way down to the cove. Even after two months, I still feel a strange need to come to the cove almost every day, even if just for a moment, as if to assure myself that it's real. It's like I need to always have one last fresh look at my small piece of heaven should this fantasy somehow disappear and I find myself back in my drafty loft, freezing and hungry once more.
I shuck my boots and dig my toes into the sand, watching the setting sun as it bathes the entire cove in deep orange and pink light. There's something magical about this cove when the sun finally releases its grasp and consents to the moon taking over her duties for the evening, quietly dipping down below the surface of the sea to rest. There is a small window of time, no more than a few moments, between that very last ray of sunlight and when the stars appear, when it's as if the entire world holds its breath, everything becoming still and calm and perfect.
The magic moment passes and then the stars begin to twinkle above the sea, now black as the night surrounding it, turning the cove into a whole new world. Each moment here somehow becomes my favorite. During the day, there is nothing more beautiful than the way the sunlight glimmers off of the blue-green water and the way the birds and sea creatures play, the way the sun beats down and warms my skin despite the fact that snow is on the horizon. Then there's the moments before sunset, when the sky alights in those gorgeous tendrils of pinks and oranges and reds, and every time in those moments, I swear nothing has ever looked so perfect, as if the gods themselves hand painted the sky. Then comes the night and I forget every other time that has ever existed inside this cove. The stars sparkle above and reflect off of the water, making it look like thousands of diamonds strewn across a midnight desert. The moon turns the sand into a blanket of silver crystals. Even the sound of the waves is somehow different at night, more relaxed, lulling, whereas during the day it seems loud and playful.
I find myself gently swaying back and forth to the sound of the waves when I hear a sharp inhale of breath behind me. I whirl and find Garrett a few feet away. His eyes are still focused low on my body and it's a heartbeat before he snaps them upward once more. Had he been staring at my backside? The thought makes me want to grin—the trousers are admittedly well-fitted through that area. This is the first time I've even seen him at all in almost two weeks. Not that I'm keeping track of such things of course.
My breath catches in my throat at seeing him again. My anger and hurt had been dissipating over these weeks, and as my eyes roam over him, they all but fade to nothing. The only thing I'm feeling in this moment is wanting. His dark hair is even more unruly than usual, as if he'd just been running his fingers through it. His scruff is a bit more prominent than before, but just as tempting as ever. More so even. His shirt is mostly unbuttoned, showing off his muscled chest and top half of his stomach. His scars are silver in the moonlight and I want to kiss them, somehow erase the pain that caused them. Then I want to continue kissing across that magnificent chest, down the hard planes of his stomach, lower still. I imagine myself before him now, doing just that, tearing the laces of his trousers open in a frenzy and dropping to my knees before him. I can practically hear his gasp in my ears as I nuzzle the small patch of hair leading from his navel downward. "Sloane," he'd groan in that rumbling voice as I pulled him free. I lick my lips as I imagine running my tongue over the moistened tip of his thick cockstand, before he gently feeds it between my lips...
"-oane?" I yank myself out of my thoughts, startled by how vivid my imaginings had become. My chest is rising and falling in shallow bursts and heat and moisture pool between my legs. "Sloane?" he says again, eyes burning and brows drawn slightly. His own chest seems to be heaving a bit, doesn't it? Does he feel it too?
"I...I'm sorry, what?"
"Are you alright? You seem..." He swallows hard, throat bobbing before I cut him off.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I say quickly, embarrassed and practically shivering with need.
"I..." He runs his fingers through his hair, somehow making an even more of a mess of it, and exhales roughly. "Where did you get those??" he asks accusingly, pointing at my pants, though I don't believe that was what he originally planned to say. Need forgotten for a moment, I narrow my eyes and put my hands on my hips. I am so sick of a woman wearing trousers being something to get in an uproar about! I thought Garrett would be more...worldly than the folks in Silverwood, but apparently not.
"I made them and before you even begin to tell me that I shouldn’t be wearing them, I'll have you know—"
"Should no' be wearing them? Gods woman, you should wear nothing but them." He runs a hand down his mouth. My eyes widen and he drops his hand, his own eyes widening as well, as if realizing what he's said out loud. "I just meant...um they're very...becoming on you." I fight a smile and a tension I hadn't noticed begins to ease inside my chest. It takes me a moment to realize what it is: I'd missed him. Even though we'd only spent a matter of hours together before the full moon, they were important hours, hours where I felt connected to another person in a way I never had before, even with Kieran. And I missed it, damn it. I sigh. I'd lost my only friend when I ran from the village, but I know that I could have another in Garrett. Of course I still want him physically—anyone would for gods' sake—and my feelings may run slightly deeper than friendship alone, but I would rather have friendship than nothing. I think it's time to put the past behind us and start over. As friends. I can do that...can't I?
"What brings you down to the cove?" I ask, trying to make friendly conversation.
"I was looking for you, actually." My brows arch upwards and my chest warms. He was looking for me? A moment later, realization hits. Oh. Of course, he's looking for me to assist him with something. You work for him, remember? I chide myself silently. Though it isn't rational, I'm irritated. He usually does his best to act as if I don't work for him. He doesn't ask me to do anything for him if he can help it, preferring to ask Conrad alone or doing it himself. Now he wants to act like my employer, even coming down to my cove at night to ask something of me? Not rational, not rational, not rational...and yet: I'm irritated.
"Do you need something? Bed turned down?" I eye his half-unbuttoned shirt and his mussed hair. Oh gods. "Are you entertaining company and in need of wine and glasses to be brought to your room perhaps?" The words come out far sharper than I intend and I curse my temper and tongue.
He looks wholly confused for a moment, but then he arches one dark brow in that way that I hate...but really love. A smirk appears on his gorgeous lips. I force myself not to remember what those lips felt like against my own.
"Why yes actually. I am entertaining a female companion upstairs and we would adore wine." My eyes go wide. I'd said it in bitter jest, I didn't think he'd actually have a lover here! I hadn't seen hide nor hair of one in all the time I've been here, though that didn't mean none had been here I suppose... "Actually there are two of them." My mouth gapes. Two women?? He rubs two fingers across his jaw, as if in deep thought. "Oh shite, did I say two? I meant three. I daresay I'm going tae have my hands verra full this evening. Probably best tae bring a few bottles up."
