Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29980 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 150(@200wpm)___ 120(@250wpm)___ 100(@300wpm)
“To see them too, sure,” he admitted. “But I’m back so often for you.”
“And how long until you’re gone again?”
The muscles in his jaw clenched before he answered. “After the harvest.”
A sudden tightness in her chest constricted her breath. Bannin was only here for a fortnight, then. Though really, had she expected anything different? No matter how pretty his words, Sarya knew what Bannin was. He never stayed.
Not that she wanted him to. She didn’t. If there was one thing these past years had taught her, it was that Sarya needed someone she could rely on.
They’d also taught her that she could only rely on herself.
“Come with me,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll see to your happiness, Sarya. I swear it.”
Sarya shook her head and continued down the forest path. “I’m happy here.”
So very happy…and also very much a liar.
Sarya had to give credit where it was deserved. Despite her rejection, Bannin didn’t storm off and leave her to walk home alone.
So perhaps she could rely on him, whispered an impertinent little voice in her head.
She ignored that voice—along with the one pointing out that Bannin wasn’t a blowhard now. Instead he was as silent and as watchful as she. By unspoken agreement, he kept an eye on the forest behind them while Sarya searched through the trees ahead, looking for anything that might be the demon she’d seen.
Of course, now she was discovering that the blowhard was better for her peace of mind. Because when Bannin wasn’t distracting her with the things coming out of his mouth, she spent more time wondering what else he might do with that mouth…and how it might be worth a whisker burn.
Probably best that she didn’t tell him where her thoughts kept straying.
Her pace increased as they approached the glade where her cottage stood. A slice of her grazing meadow was visible through the trees…but she didn’t yet see her gray stallion, Foggy. Her heart pounded, and only the tightest grip on her emotions prevented Sarya from breaking into an incautious run. The glade was surrounded by the forest. When she’d left that morning, all was well. But if the demon was looking for meat, the handful of animals on her farm would be easy prey.
Despite the urge to rush, she stopped warily at the edge of the treeline. A relieved breath escaped her. There was Foggy, grazing at the far end of the meadow with sunlight gleaming over his dapple gray coat. All must still be well, then. If that monster had come here, the stallion would have still been agitated—or gone.
And the birds were singing. So she could thank Bannin, and he could be on his way.
She was about to do just that when Foggy nickered a welcome, trotting toward them.
“There’s the old boy.” There was no mistaking the admiration in Bannin’s voice as he watched Foggy come, though the words themselves struck a sharp pang within Sarya’s heart.
The stallion was getting old. Oh, he was still strong and had several good years left, but Sarya had already missed out on ten of his years. It would devastate her if his remaining ones were cut short by a demon.
Bannin gave her a hopeful glance. “Still not looking to sell him?”
“Never.”
Foggy was the one reliable thing that remained of her previous life. Sarya would never give him up. She fed the horse one of the apples nestled beneath the mushrooms in her basket, then patted his thick neck before continuing across the meadow.
To her consternation, Bannin came with her. Why would he not leave now? He always left. That was what Bannin did. And it was far better when he left, because then Sarya could oust him from her head.
Or try to. It was much easier to put him from her thoughts when he wasn’t striding beside her, the sun glinting off hair the color of autumn leaves, his body so massive, and his thighs so thick and strong.
With great effort, Sarya averted her eyes.
“I see you’ve laid in plenty of firewood.” Bannin’s gaze settled on the wood stacked up against the side of her cottage.
“I told you that I would.”
“So you did.” Each spring when he visited his sister, Bannin always cut firewood for Helana to dry over the summer and burn through the winter. The last two years Bannin had offered to do the same for Sarya. Each time, she’d declined. “Not a whole lot of hay, though.”
“Not yet.” Though she owed him no further explanation, when he arched a brow at her, Sarya found herself saying, “I have an arrangement with Widow Elphin. If I harvest her field through the summer, the third cutting is mine.”
“Widow Elphin? That’s a large field.”
“It is.”
“When the time comes, I’ll help you.”
“I don’t need the help.”
“I didn’t figure that you would.” Brimming with heat, his hooded gaze slipped down over her form. “There’s plenty of strength in you. I only offer because helping you would be a full pleasure for me.”