Keane catches my eyes lingering on his oak. I glance down to pull out my larger dagger and nod at the slab, “not the magic of it, but the actual messages. How do you know who is writing to you? There’s so much text there.”
Keane smiles, his brown eyes soft and slightly amused, “hopefully the writer signs their name.”
“I never did,” I furrow my brows, wondering if I should have.
“No,” Keane grins, “but your writing was new to me. I knew it came from you.”
“And all the others?” I glance back at the full slab.
“The text will not leave the wood until it has been read. Half of these messages have been waiting for me since lunch.”
“That’s incredible,” I shake my head in wonder. I tuck my boots under the table and unbuckle my smaller dagger from beneath my shirt.
“Will you show me?” Keane asks as he pushes the oak away and sits back in his chair.
I turn to him in confusion but notice his eyes are on the dagger now in my hand. He watches my fingers move around the hilt before I place it on the table between us.
“But you’ve already seen,” I smile, “in the woods in Fumagalli.”
“When you threw it at the Ancient,” Keane gives me a knowing grin, “show me again.”
“Why?” I laugh and stand up, gripping the bottom of my shirt as I pull it over my head. Keane watches me from his seat, his body casual as his eyes trail over my chest to the black lace hugging my breasts.
“Show me, Alexis,” he commands softly.
I sigh in feigned exasperation and pick up the blade from the table.
“Choose something,” I tell him, looking across the room.
“Can you see the burn mark at the side of the armoire?” he asks.
I narrow my eyes on the small smudge of black resting against the wood, no doubt where someone had a mishap in the middle of the night and brought their candle too close. I raise my hand casually and flick the dagger forward, watching as the blade lands with a thud and covers it perfectly.
“That’sincredible,” Keane replies, moving his heated eyes back on my body.
We fell asleep last night facing eachother in bed with pillows situated between the two of us. Per usual, though, I wake up before dawn to find my body snuggled into the fold of Keane’s arm, my hand laying across his chest and fingering the black chain around his neck. Keane is already awake. His eyes are closed but his hand is moving steadily through my hair in caress.
I give a small sigh, not wanting to leave this embrace but reminding myself that I will be setting off for a stronger one.
Tonight is the night.
Keane opens his eyes and releases his hand from my hair with a small smile. His eyes immediately find mine, gaze holding so much affection that I have to look away from the intensity of it. I push my hand into his chest and feel his heart beating just as hard as mine before I lift myself up quietly from the bed.
“Good morning.”
“It is,” Keane nods, watching as my body lifts over his. He shifts underneath me, watching me move in my night slip until I’m off the bed and walking to my travel packs.
“Today’s ride will be hard,” he says quietly as I pull out a fresh change of clothes.
“I welcome it.”
I smile and finger the black and gold oak earrings that I plan to wear for the ride and night, then lift up the familiar satin gold long sleeve in my hands, now cleaned and pressed from our past travels. Keane told me he liked this shirt on me at the inn in Fumagalli. The cut down the middle is revealing and sexy, and the sleeves down my arms flow nicely until they reached my wrists in a tight embrace. I smile at the memory of him grabbing my wrist at that inn, commanding my body even then with the simplest of touch to my palm.
I gasp when I turn around and run into Keane standing directly in front of me. He’s wearing only his sleeping pants, the back fabric hugging at his hips but faded into a relaxed comfortableness. His eyes flick down to my smile and then to the soft gold shirt in my hands as he brings his fingers up to touch the fabric, grinning slyly.
“I like this shirt on you.”
“I know,” I take a small breath in response, letting his body’s presence hover over mine. Keane takes his fingers off the shirt as his gaze moves higher, over the silk of my slip covering my breasts and to the curve of my neck. I remain silent, watching him look over me,lovingthe way he looks over me. His eyes travel to my lips and to the side of my cheek, to where the small scar rests from my fall at the mills. His brown eyes catch and hold mine until he gives a very small nod. The two of us are ready.
