Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91636 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
“You will ignore your duties with Aliss around.”
“Aliss’s healing keeps her busy. You have seen that for yourself.”
“Are you telling me that if I agree to allow Aliss to remain with the Hellewyk clan, you will wed me?”
“No.”
Tarr threw his hands up in the air. “You do not know what you want.”
“I do too,” Fiona said, her hands going to her hips. “I want a man who will love me, allow me to be me, not dictate to me, and will accept my sister. That is not very much to ask.”
“What will you give a husband in return?”
“Love, respect, and devotion.”
Tarr stared at her a moment, then reached out to take her in his arms.
She stepped out of his reach and held her hand out to prevent him from approaching her. “Your touch does not allow me to think rationally.”
He smiled and advanced on her.
“No,” she said firmly, and moved away from him. “It would be easy to get lost in your arms, but I cannot. It is important to me that you understand how I feel.”
“Then the truth of the matter is that I would have to love you if I wish to wed you.”
“I look for true love, not a love you conveniently discover to suit your need.”
He shook his head. “You cannot be serious. If I did love you, how than could I ever convince you of it?”
“That is for you to determine.”
Chapter 20
It was early, the sun having yet to rise, when Fiona crept silently through the keep to emerge in the great hall as a servant added fresh logs to the hearth. The dry logs caught quickly and the fire was soon blazing, sending heat scurrying out into the dank hall.
Fiona cozied up on a bench at a table nearest to the fireplace. She pulled her green wool shawl around her shoulders and knotted it at her breasts to keep warm, then tucked her feet along with the hem of her brown skirt beneath her crossed-legs on the bench.
The servant promised to return with hot cider, letting her know a cold rain fell hard outside and she would do well to remain warm by the fire.
The few of Raynor’s clan she had the opportunity to meet she liked. They seemed hospitable and friendly, though a few warriors regarded her with skeptical glances. She did not blame them, for she would have done the same herself.
Fiona thanked the servant profusely when she placed a steaming tankard of cider in front of her and a wooden bowl piled high with bread that appeared hot from the hearth. A pot of honey was the last item left.
She eagerly reached for a piece of bread and stopped, her hands returning to the heated tankard. She thought herself hungry, but now . . .
Her chaotic thoughts had her stirring all night. She slept little and when she had, it was a restless sleep. Fearing she would disturb her sister with her twisting and turning, she left the bed, dressed, and thought food might ease her anxious state.
Her stomach presently thought otherwise. It rumbled, flip-flopped, and fluttered until she felt as if she could not eat a thing. She could not blame it only on her situation with Tarr. Being honest, she would have to admit she was concerned with meeting her parents.
How would they be? How would they feel about Tarr and his demands? And would they have demands of their own?
“Troubled thoughts?”
Fiona jumped and almost toppled off the bench, Tarr’s firm grasp preventing her fall. They stayed as they were, gazing into each other’s eyes, a million thoughts and questions caught in a single unacknowledged space and time. Instinct prevailed and they instantly joined in a kiss, ignoring all else around them.
Simple and sweet. Tasty and lingering. Trembling and aching. Needing and wanting. Their kiss spoke volumes, they parted reluctantly.
“Join with me?” she asked, and shook her head as she corrected, “join me for breakfast?”
He brushed his lips faintly across her cheek to her ear. “I would gladly agree to your first offer, the time and place your choice. Until then . . .”
He left her side to walk around the table and sit opposite her.
The servant appeared from out of nowhere, startling them both as she placed a tankard of cider in front of Tarr and a pitcher, steam rising from it, between them on the table. She was gone as quickly as she had appeared.
“Tell me what troubles you,” he said with earnest as he slathered a piece of bread with honey.
To Fiona’s surprise he handed it to her. She took it with a gentle awkwardness. “Thank you.” He actually seemed concerned not only that she ate but with her thoughts.
He waited, fixing himself a slice of bread and honey.
This man really cared for her, she thought, then brushed it aside. Was it what she wanted to think, or was she seeing a side of him she had not noticed?