Leighton smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Oh, we're far more than that. We've been inseparable since boyhood. We grew up together, joined the army together, served together. I honestly can't recall a time Magnus hasn't been at my side."
The way he said it was light, casual, but I couldn't ignore the slight quickening of my pulse. Something about it felt like more than friendship, more than camaraderie.
Magnus leaned forward, forearms resting on the table. "What he means to say is that he'd be a hopeless mess without me."
Leighton laughed, the sound bright and easy. "That too."
I tried to smile, but my heart was beating far too quickly. I felt caught between them, like a moth circling two flames, each pulling me closer.
The rest of dinner was served in courses of roasted meats, delicate vegetables and a tart so flavorful I moaned in delight at the taste. Leighton kept me engaged with gentle questions about my life, my upbringing on the farm, and whether I enjoyed reading. His charm made it easy to speak with him, and I found myself laughing softly once or twice, almost forgetting about the terrible weight of that secret kiss sitting on my chest.
But then Magnus would interject, never rudely, but it would once again remind me of his presence. Not that I could ever truly forget his impressive figure across the table.
"You've strong hands," he remarked, once, his eyes flicking briefly toward where I held my fork. "Farm work leaves its mark."
I nearly dropped the utensil, my pulse leaping. Did they find it unattractive? That I've had to work with my hands and scarred them? Why did I even care whattheythought to begin with? The only person whose opinion mattered was Leighton.
"I suppose so," I finally responded, feeling my cheeks heat.
"There's no shame in it," he added, voice smooth. "Strength is far more appealing than delicate fragility."
My cheeks burned, and I busied myself with a plate, pretending not to notice the smirk tugging at his mouth. I chanced a glance at Leighton to see his reaction to his friend’s forward remarks, but he had no outward appearance of jealousy or annoyance. He merely reached for my wineglass, topping it up himself.
"Don't let Magnus's harsh exterior and words intimidate you, Elisabet. Magnus enjoys testing people."
Magnus raised his brows. "And she seems quite capable of withstanding it." His eyes caught mine again, deliberate, and I had to look away before my reaction to him betrayed me.
By the time the final course was cleared, my mind was in shambles. I had come here nervous about meeting one man. Instead I had been drawn in by two.
And neither behaved in a manner I was used to.
Yes, Leighton was everything I could have ever hoped for in a husband. He seemed kind, charming and attentive. Yet he seemed to almost... welcome Magnus's attentions toward me. And the second man... well, his presence unsettled me in ways I didn't understand, ways that left me aching and restless.
As I rose from the table at Leighton’s invitation, Magnus stood as well, the movement fluid, commanding. His gazelingered on me as though he could read every thought tumbling through my head.
I couldn't help but wonder... what exactly bound these two men together?
"I'll see Elisabet to her room, and then meet you in the study for a nightcap, Mag?" Leighton directed his statement to his friend as he held his arm out to me.
Once again, anxiety filled my very being. Was this where he told me he knew what I'd done with his friend? Made some kind of demand himself?
Oh my goodness, I was not cut out for all of this.
We were quiet as he walked me to my room, his hand covering mine on his arm. Once we reached my door, he turned to me with a bright smile, and I couldn’t help but feel the tingles of attraction at his open expression, despite the scar on his face.
What kind of man saw the things he'd undoubtedly seen and still smiled that brightly? I should bepleasedthat he was to be my husband. There should definitely not be a yearning in me that I couldn't have his friend too.
"I really am quite pleased you've come all this way to be my wife, Elisabet," Leighton told me, his expression earnest.
I looked down at my feet, before returning my gaze to his. "Lisa, please, Leighton. If we're to be wed, you should call me Lisa."
His smile widened even further before he placed his hands on my hip, sending my heart racing. "Lisa," he whispered, and the sound of it had me breathless.
He leaned forward, his lips hovering mere breaths away from mine. "Sleep well, my dear Lisa."
And then his mouth touched mine.
It was the barest of touches before he stepped away, his hand trailing up to my waist before he was walking back down the hallway, leaving me reeling.
