I glared hard, hoping he’d get my unspoken message.
Kes looked away, hiding any hint he might’ve picked up on my temper. Stalking toward the groaning bookshelves lining the walls of the saloon, he cupped his chin, searching for something.
“Ah, ha.” Snagging an oversized tome with tatty bindings, he brought it back toward me with a twinkle in his eyes. “I think this might interest you.”
Beckoning me to take a seat, he pulled up an ottoman and sat beside the empty wingback. Quirking his eyebrow, he waited for me to deliberate.
Should I leave or stay? Should I continue to play whatever this was or go and hunt for the man who made me wet and terrified me?
Slowly, my feet moved toward the chair. Sinking down onto the firm leather, Kes placed the heavy book into my lap. “Relax and forget about this world for a while.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off the literature. A large gold filigree ‘W’ embossed the cover with what looked like an oak tree sprouting countless limbs of foliage.
“What is it?” I asked, tracing the majestic old-wealth of such a book.
Kes grinned, inching closer to open the first page. “It’s your history.”
My heart thrummed as his bulk seared my left side. My eyes devoured the beautifully scripted calligraphy.
“Every Weaver woman who’s stayed with us has made notes and shared her journey, along with patterns and fashions created while living with us.” He gently flipped a page, where faint sketches decorated along with the signature of one of my ancestors. Notes scribbled about what sort of fabric to source, along with diary-like entries of what life was like living in the nest of Hawks.
My hands shook. Leaning over, I couldn’t read fast enough.
Today was a good day. Bonnie had the chiffon I requested delivered, and I spent the afternoon in her chambers, creating a new crinoline evening gown. She’s a surly old bat, but when you get to know her...
The next paragraph had been scribbled out, so dark and determined, I had no hope of reading what was written. It continued:
The passion to create had disappeared. I lived in a void with no urge to sketch or pin or sew. I hate that I’ve found that passion here of all places, but at least...
As much as I do not wish to admit—I’m happy.
My eyes shot up to Kestrel’s. “You’re trying to prove that my family werecontentwith their imprisonment?” My heart froze over at such atrocities. But how could I deny it when it was in black and white?
Kes smiled softly. “Happiness comes in many forms: sex, freedom, control. I think everyone has the capacity to find happiness in even the darkest of places.”
Grabbing the majority of the pages, he flipped them over, revealing unmarred parchment.
Chills scattered down my back.
It’s for me.
It’s been waiting for me to fill with my journey.
“This is yours, Nila. If there aren’t enough blank pages, we’ll have a book binder add more.” With gentle fingertips, he tucked a loose piece of hair behind my ear.
I jolted from his touch, my emotions going haywire.
“This is the first gift of many. You’ll see.”
My eyes locked with his; a ball lodged in my throat.
Awareness sparked between us; my lips parted as I sucked in a breath. Kes looked at me the exact same way Jethro had after our fight in the forest, after he’d blown down my throat, after I’d won. That same awe, same secretive amazement, now blazed in his brother’s gaze.
Words deserted me as I fell into his soul, allowing him to spellbind me, despite everything that he was.
I gasped as his fingers clasped mine, squeezing hard. Dropping his voice to a soft whisper, he said, “Whatever you think of my family, don’t let it taint what you think of me.” Waving with his free hand, he continued, “These are my quarters. My bedroom is off this saloon. If it ever gets to be too much, if my brother ever goes too far, you’re welcome to find sanctuary here.”
Bowing his head, energy and connection poured from him. “You’realwayswelcome.”
