Fawn turned then, her eyes meeting his, her voice remaining soft. “And where do I belong, Rhodes?”
“With me. Always with me.” He leaned down and claimed her lips in a powerful kiss.
CHAPTER 18
His kiss ended slowly, reluctantly, as though even Rhodes himself was unwilling to break from her. When he finally lifted his head, his dark eyes lingered on hers, heavy with something he had yet to understand.
Fawn’s heart thudded hard against her ribs. Her lips tingled, her breath uneven, and she wondered if she would ever stop being startled by the power of his touch and how much she welcomed it.
Rhodes drew back a step, his arm falling from her waist, though the warmth of it lingered. He cleared his throat, as if reminding himself of his purpose. “Settle in and tend to your animals. I’ll come for you when it’s time for supper.”
She gave a small nod, unable to speak without betraying more than she intended.
When the door shut behind him, the chamber felt larger, quieter, yet not empty, for his presence clung to the air like smoke from the hearth. She pressed a hand to her lips for a moment, then shook herself, turning to the baskets waiting to be opened.
Sprig stirred in his new nest by the fire, blinking drowsily at her as she set about her work. She moved carefully, lifting the lids, speaking softly to each creature as she welcomed them to their new home.
She glanced at the shuttered windows. “Sage, Bramble and Willow, these windows will serve you all well. High enough for flight, so you may come and go as you please.” She tilted her head back and pointed to the rafters. “And there is room aplenty for the three of you to have sufficient space to perch.”
Sage hooted and the doves cooed softly, as if in reply.
Her gaze shifted to the raven’s basket. Rook blinked at her with keen black eyes, feathers rustling faintly.
“You’ll fly again too, my friend,” she whispered, crouching low beside him. “When your wing mends, you’ll take to the sky. And when you do, you’ll know you are free.”
Her words faltered as her gaze swept to Ash, the fox curled comfortably in a large basket lined with a blanket where she had placed him. His limp was permanent, and her heart ached at the thought of releasing him into a world that would show him no mercy.
“You,” she murmured gently, brushing her hand along his side, “are stuck with me, but we will make the most of it.”
She straightened slowly, the fire’s glow catching in her hair and setting it ablaze with color. For a moment, she let herself go still, her eyes drifting toward the closed door, as though she could see through stone to where Rhodes might be.
How could she already feel the press of his absence? How could one man occupy so much of her thoughts? He was her husband, yet there was so much more to him. He infuriated her, demanded, commanded. And yet, when he looked at her, when his arms claimed her, she felt… safe. Wanted. Cherished. And dare she think… loved.
Fawn shook her head, rubbing her palms together for warmth. She turned back to her creatures, speaking low as if they could sense her unrest.
“He’ll need to learn,” she said softly, “that to love me, he must love you as well. And maybe…” her lips curved faintly, “maybe he already does.”
Sprig gave a drowsy mewl from his basket, and the fire crackled in easy answer.
For the first time since leaving her cottage, Fawn began to believe she might build a life here. Not only for herself, but for them all.
The heavy doorto his solar closed with a dull thud, shutting out the sounds of the keep. For a moment, Rhodes stood still, one hand braced against the oaken panel, the other clenched at his side.
Her taste lingered on his lips and her defiance lingered in his thoughts.
He cursed softly, running a hand through his dark hair before crossing the chamber in long strides. The fire in the grate burned low, but he hardly noticed as he poured himself a tankard of ale and downed it in one swallow.
What had he done, letting her beneath his skin so quickly? He had meant to remind her of her place, of his claim, yet somehow it was he who had been shaken. The feeling of her pressed against him still burned along his palms. And worse, the fear that had twisted through him when she’d vanished from the hall earlier still clung to his gut.
He had known women before. Desired them, bedded them, sent them on their way. None had occupied his thoughts beyondthe moment. But Fawn, his wife, his curse, his salvation? She filled every corner of his mind.
He set the tankard down hard, staring at the flames.
He couldn’t help but wonder again if the witch had a hand in this.
He scowled at the thought. The witch had threatened to end his power, yet he felt no weaker, only more restless. And if it was true that someone dared challenge him, dared to strike at his sheep with wolfhounds, then perhaps his enemies believed the witch had succeeded.
A dangerous mistake.
