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)
Magnus was stunned silent by her spontaneous reaction, but once he realized her unease, he attempted to make light of it.
“Since quills and paper so excite you, I will make certain you are supplied with an abundance of both.”
She laughed with relief. “I am sorry, I did not think.”
“I like when you do not think.”
She raised her head to look at him and found it difficult to speak, unsure of her response and captured by the tender look in his dark eyes. What was it about his eyes that made her senses tingle? Why did a tiny shiver run through her and settle in the pit of her stomach? And why did she feel the urge to kiss him again?
Magnus leaned nearer. “Continue to look at me with such longing and I will satisfy your desire.”
Desire?
Did she look at him with desire? Is that what she felt, or ached? It was an ache, and an unfamiliar one, and she did not quite understand it herself. And did she want to?
“You know little of men and women.”
“I watch and see, but understand?” She shook her head. “I cannot say I understand at all.”
“Yet you capture the essence in your drawings.”
“I see much when I draw.”
He leaned even closer. “Then draw me and understand.”
Her smile was quick to return. “I would love to draw you.”
“Then you will see me for who I truly am.”
“Is that a challenge?”
He stared at her for a moment. “A warning.”
Again she thought not of her actions and reached out to run her finger down his cheek. “I do not fear you.”
His hand grabbed hold of her finger and he brought it near his mouth. His warm breath whispered across the sensitive flesh. “Are you sure of that?” He kissed her finger and then gently suckled the tip.
Her eyes turned wide, her mouth dropped open, and though she searched for a response all she could do was moan—in pleasure, not in pain.
“Let me taste you,” he whispered and captured her lips with his.
She thought to move away, her body already in motion, but his arms were quick and strong, wrapping around her and pulling her toward him. Her hands pushed against his chest, preventing close contact, and the feel of the soft leather over his hard muscled chest tingled her fingers.
His tongue rushed around her mouth and slipped between her traitorous lips. In an instant she was lost in the taste of him. There was no thought, no choice, just response, and she responded without reason. But then it made no sense, how she felt, how she ached, how her body tingled in the strangest places.
There was only a need, and she surrendered to it more completely than she had ever thought possible.
He ended the kiss with a gentle brush of his lips over hers before resting his forehead against hers.
“Think on what we have just shared and then sketch me so that you may understand it all.”
She answered breathlessly. “Aye, I will do that.”
Heavy footsteps climbing the stone stairs drew them apart, and Thomas soon entered the room with haste.
“A messenger approaches the keep,” Thomas said.
Magnus stood. “When you sketch this room, make certain to record the views from each window. Leave the trunks, I will see to them.”
“As you wish,” she said and watched as Magnus and Thomas hurried out the door.
She returned the items to the trunk except for the quills and paper Magnus had told her to keep. She refused to allow her mind to linger on their kiss or on the prospect of sketching him, though both thrilled her. She had work to do, and yet not only did her mind drift but her glance drifted as well, to the unopened trunk. She itched to discover what secrets lay in wait.
She attempted to ignore it while she sketched the room, concentrating on the view from each window as Magnus had directed, but her eyes were repeatedly drawn back to the trunk.
After several agonizing moments of fighting with herself, she surrendered to her own curiosity, kneeled in front of the trunk, and opened it.
A small blue wool blanket lay on top, and she gently moved it aside to discover several leather-bound ledgers. She removed one and carefully opened it. The handwriting was neat and small, and the text was French—a familiar name within the lines.
I gave birth to a fine son today after much pain, and though I continue to ache and feel exhausted, I also feel wonderful. He nestles in my arms, his fists tightly clenched, and he snuggles to me for warmth. He has claimed my heart, this tiny son of mine, and I will protect him well. He deserves a fine name and so I have decided to name him after my grandfather, for he was a courageous and fair man. I will call my new son—Magnus.