She turned her eyes toward the ground and shook her head. “Forgive me, Master. All of this is new to me. It might take time to adjust.”
“Did you not enjoy yourself last evening?”
Her face again heated at the memory of what they’d done or, rather, what had been done to her. She felt the first shadow of that relentless ache form in her core. “I did, Master,” she whispered.
“Then surely your mood has changed because of Dorva, something she said?” he prodded.
She could feel his penetrating gaze bearing down on her. She liked Dorva, and did not want to betray her trust, even by repeating the story that she had told her to hush. She thought of making something up, then thought better of it. His perception was such that he would surely know if she was lying. The last thing she wanted was to risk a punishment out here where everyone would see. It occurred to her to twist the truth a little. Give him some excuse thatmightbe plausible. That, too, seemed unwise. “I do not wish to make trouble, Master,” she finally whispered.
He stopped and turned to face her, his eyes dark and still. “Then do as I ask and tell me what troubles you,” he said.
Feeling like a cornered animal she knew she had no choice but to obey. Her eyes darted side to side, not wanting to meet his for fear that he would sense the heaviness in her heart. But with his stare her choice became clear. She would have to face the consequences of telling him the truth.
She looked up and locked eyes with him. For the first time she saw a note of kindness in his expression. It twisted her insides and softened her heart. She startled as her mind put a name to the feeling.
Longing.
A shiver ran down her spine at the realization. She longed for him. For his touch and to hear him speak her name. She was happy here at his side. Happier than she’d ever been.
“What pains you, Leola Grace?” he said, his voice suddenly soft and low and soothing.
She nearly melted at the question. “It is nothing that should trouble you, Master,” she replied.
He put a heavy hand on her shoulder, the weight of it comforting somehow. “I will be the judge of that. Now out with it. You’ve already earned yourself a spanking when we return to the tent.”
Her stomach fluttered at the lewd promise. Her eyes darted to his. For a moment she thought she saw a smile begin to form at the corner of his mouth.
“For testing my patience and making me draw this out of you,” he explained. “Now speak.”
Excitement and trepidation fluttered through her at the thought of the heavy hand resting on her shoulder falling onto her bottom with a loud clap. “Yes, Master,” she whispered. She drew a breath and held it, steeling herself for the admission she was about to make. She straightened, doing her best to keep her dignity intact. “I was… told you are to marry soon,” she said. “And I worry about my fate, and then I… you seem displeased, you did not… lay with me, as I had been… expecting… and I…” She lowered her eyes. “I am confused, Master,” she admitted at last.
His brow furrowed for a moment. “Does it trouble you, that I will marry?” he asked.
She lowered her eyes to the ground. Her cheeks felt like they’d caught fire. A part of her hated him for making her dredge this secret up out of herself and share it with him. A far larger part never wanted to be apart from him again.
I’m going mad.
Her stomach did a flip when he put his finger on her chin and raised her head. “Dorva is a gossip,” he said quietly. His eyes wandered back and forth between her own, his gaze inquisitive. “Take what she says with a grain of salt or three.”
Her heart skipped a beat, hope swelling inside her chest. “It is not true then?” she asked.
He studied her so long she turned to look away again, unable to stand his searching gaze. “It is not for you to worry about,” he finally said. “It’s also no matter for Dorva’s flapping tongue, nor anyone else’s.”
“Of course,” she whispered. “Master—Dorva did not, she told me of your marriage yesterday. Today when I spoke of… you… she told me to be quiet and spoke not another word. I do not wish her to be in trouble.”
Sedrak looked at her warmly. They sat in silence for a moment.
“But tell me,” he said, straightening and folding his large arms across his chest. “Why would that news trouble you?” A smile finally appeared along his lips. Slightly playful and the tiniest bit wicked.
She shook her head, mortified at being forced to admit her deepest feelings.
He spared her from that embarrassment. Putting her hand on her arm he turned and led her further down the road until they were standing at the babbling brook, the winter ice thawing into cool spring waters under the warm sun. “I would often summer here,” he said, looking out over the rolling hills and toward the massive mountains in the distance. “My uncle’s keep is up the road. You will see it tomorrow as we travel North,” he said, pointing in that direction. “The fondest memories I have of childhood are of this place.”
She looked at him, touched by his tender tone and reminiscence. The way the sunlight struck him softened his features, his normally stern expression lighter. Almost happy, it seemed.
He turned to her. “And what about you?”
“What about me, Master?”
