Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99206 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
He eased himself off her with great reluctance, especially when her small hands grabbed for him. He held them tight in his, and their heated eyes settled on each other.
She saw the passion in his eyes, and yet he stopped without saying a word, and she wondered. When he touched her did he find her unappealing: were her breasts too small, her body too slim? Why, when it seemed they were on the brink of joining, did he stop? She wished she had the courage to ask him, but she could not, for she worried over his answer. She suddenly felt the need for solitude, or was it escape from her concern and doubt?
Magnus helped her off the table.
She was relieved when a knock sounded at the door and a servant advised he was needed in the tower room.
He was annoyed, wanting time to discuss his intentions with her, but then his lingering passion would probably interfere with sound reason, and nothing would be accomplished. At least that was what he attempted to tell himself, but the ache in his groin was adamantly disagreeing. “We will speak later,” he said and left the room.
She was glad for his departure. She needed time alone. Her feelings for Magnus were growing in leaps and bounds. She missed him when he was not near, and she felt his hurt when she saw it in his eyes. She was becoming a part of him, or was he becoming a part of her? Or was there a difference?
And yet there was a part of her that doubted all of it and attempted to convince her that she was a foolish young woman who believed that her lord wanted more than just a lover’s tryst.
With her mind in turmoil she decided the best thing for her would be to get away from the keep, if only for an hour or so. With a brief stop at her bedchamber to grab her cloak, as well as a quick message to Brigid informing her of her whereabouts should Magnus ask, she was off to see her parents.
She pulled up her hood and hugged her cloak around her. Dusk bathed the village with its gray skies, a chill wind blew, and smoke curled from cottage chimneys. From the cottages came the echoes of laughter, children’s voices raised in song, and scents so delicious they made one lick one’s lips in anticipation.
Reena smiled. This was how she remembered her village; she was home at last.
She heard her father’s voice, crisp and clear in storytelling, when she approached her parents’ cottage. She opened the door slowly so as not to disturb, and entered. Her father sat not far from the hearth, a small group of children circling him. His dramatic voice would grow in pitch and their eyes would widen, then narrow as his voice softened.
He acknowledged her with a brief nod and continued telling his tale. Her mother rose from the chair next to the hearth and walked over to her and took her hand.
“I am glad you have come to visit.” Whispering was not necessary; her tone was already gentle. “Come. We will sit where we will not disturb anyone.”
Reena moved her mother’s chair from the hearth to the corner of the room beside another chair. A small table with a lone candle sat between the chairs and provided a faint light. Reena removed her cloak, as the room was comfortably warm.
“I am sorry I have neglected you and father,” Reena said, feeling guilty that she had not spent enough time with her parents of late.
“Nonsense,” her mother said. “You have important work to do for Lord Dunhurnal. Everyone in the village talks of your importance and your skills. Your service to him is greatly respected.”
She needed no praise nor wanted it. “I am who I have always been.”
Her mother patted Reena’s hand, which rested in her lap. “The villagers need their gossip, and what better gossip than their own hero. They are proud of you and rightfully so. Let them talk”—her mother stopped abruptly and smiled—“and make you a legend.”
Reena laughed quietly. “There is only one legend.”
“Aye, and he earned the title.” Her mother shivered.
“What tales have you heard?”
“Not tales, the truth.”
“How do you know it is the truth?” Reena asked. “If tongues wag in gossip about me, then most certainly they wag about the Legend.”
Her mother easily switched to French so that if anyone overheard them, they would not understand their conversation. “This is not gossip, it is hushed words whispered in awe and respect, and I think fear.”
Reena was quick to defend the Legend. “Magnus is a good man.”
“Aye, all agree he is a good man—to us. His enemies, or those to whom he poses a threat, are a different matter.”
“As is the way with most warriors.”