Pacing, I swept from one end of my cabin to the other. Something pivotal fluttered in my chest, a swarm of fireflies taking flight.
He loved me.
He said it first.
I’d stopped wanting this. Before Aire’s mission, my wishes were dreamy, idealistic. After he left, I went on with my life, recalling my crush with humiliation.
Since his return, something new had taken root. It had grown slowly, taking its time with the deep patience of a seed. Under the surface. Building strength.
A linen night shift and robe swished around my calves, and my bare feet slapped the floor. If I didn’t stop traversing the living room with so much nervous energy, I’d dig a swale into the floor. Halting, I glanced from the brimming hearth to the cupboard, its doors hand-painted in wheat stalks. Briar would know how to organize the furniture. Flare would know how to enhance the ambience. Both females proved anyone could be fierce and romantic in equal measure.
Channeling two of my favorite women, I considered the candlesticks propped on various tabletops. More lighting. I could do more lighting. Setting my shoulders, I reached for the first brass taper.
A gentle knock shook the door. I froze, my arm hovering. That courteous sound buzzed in my ears, and my heart pounded like a fauna stampede. Retracting my hand from the tapers, I brushed through the tousled locks of my hair.
Wheeling to the high mirror resting against the wall, I pointed at my reflection. “Lock it down, Aspen,” I lectured. “Cease acting like a timid debutante on her wedding night, instead of a woman who’d been wielding a lance and galloping at breakneck speed atop a stallion mere hours ago.”
Aspen of Autumn was experienced. Aspen of Autumn had mopped the training field with many-a-soldier’s-ass. Aspen of Autumn just won a jousting match.
Approaching the threshold, I sucked in a bolstering draft of oxygen, swung open the door—and lost my fucking breath.
Like a golden deity, he filled the doorway to capacity. With one hand grasping the jamb, his head had been tipped down in thought. But it lifted the second I answered, the warm glow from inside spilling across his face like honey.
Like me, Aire had bathed. He also dressed for the occasion, the scents of aged leather and the wind itself emanating from the fresh vest, shirt, and overcoat that molded to his frame. A few scrapes tracked across his jaw, slender red lines from the tournament. Backdropped by the midnight sky and straightening the instant I opened the door, he couldn’t have looked more like a knight in shining armor.
Minus the armor.
I clenched the knob. “Hi.”
“Hello.” A tender sort of hunger cast across his features. “May I?”
Nodding, I made room for him to enter, stepping back to allow Aire’s big body to fit through. Pinning his gaze to mine, he stalked over the threshold and closed the door behind him. The heavy latch clicked, jumpstarting my pulse.
Separated by five feet, we stared at one another. Fascinated devotion radiated from Aire, his gaze pouring down my body, riveting on every curve beneath the delicate yards of fabric. The shadows of my cleavage, flanked by the robe lapels. The outlines of my breasts. The unshod toes peeking from my hem. Every place his attention skimmed lit a match to my skin.
We had planned this, agreeing to meet after Aire shuttled Nicu to his cabin. I hadn’t gotten fancy, hadn’t gussied myself up like a noble. Even so, I’d chosen something soft and light, a pretty garment that still felt like me.
Esteem consumed Aire’s features. “You’re breathtaking.”
“You clean up nicely too.” My attention dropped to his hands. “What’s that?”
Only now did I notice him fidgeting, his antsy fingers groping a miniature sack. Aire’s complexion reddened as if he’d forgotten the bundle and his manners.
He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure if you brought one with you. So…”
Entranced, I accepted the gift. Overturning the sack, I gasped as a smooth, glittering rock—tied with a straw and maple leaf—landed in my palm.
“For the whetstone,” I whispered.
Sheepish, Aire gestured to the object. “I would have presented it to you sooner, but it took me a while to forage for a suitable one.”
The whetstone he gave me years ago required constant upkeep, a tool to flatten the gouged areas where I honed my axe. Rightly so, Aire suspected I hadn’t brought an option to do the job.
The knight grunted. “You may have no need for it. But since flowers aren’t your preference, I thought—”
Touched beyond measure, I snatched his wrist. “I love it.”
With a swing of my chin, I indicated the whetstone resting on the mantel. Spotting the relic of our past, Aire’s uncertainty melted into relief. I’d been harsh the last time he gave me a present, and I refused to make that same mistake, regardless of whether I’d been protecting him before.
