As he moved, his shoulder grazed hers, sparking a wave of heat through his body. His jaw tightened, but he forced himself to keep going. He sensed her behind him, and the absence of footsteps indicated she was standing still.
I could turn around and kiss her. I should turn around and devour her.
Grinding his teeth together so hard that he thought his molars might crack, he walked away from her. With each inch he put between them, he felt more and more like he was denying a deep-seated desire. The castle was slowly starting to feel like his own personal hell.
* * *
I should call out to him and insist he speaks with me.
Katherine didn’t, though. She stood quietly, more than a little confused at the feelings in her heart and in her mind. If she were to protect her heart, she’d avoid him as well. She’d let their relationship fall into the professional, stiff business arrangement that he continued to insist they maintain.
Yet I allow every tiny thing to get me hopes up. I must control meself, or I’m only goin’ to be miserable.
When he turned the corner, likely heading to his study where he spent most of his time, she exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Part of her expected him to turn around and come back. There was something tingling in the air between them so strong that she could still feel it stirring over her skin.
I’ve been warm all over for the better part of today, though. Perhaps this is nae just from him.
She headed back toward her own quarters, the room she couldn’t stop thinking of as the one she was meant to share. Each night as she slipped into the large bed, she couldn’t help but imagine how much warmer it would be if she had someone to share it with. Her heart, the traitorous thing, knew exactly who she wanted to share it with.
I should be glad to have such a large bed all to meself. Nay… I am glad.
Telling herself didn’t seem to change her feelings, though.
“Katherine?”
A tiny voice brought her to a stop. Katherine turned, smiling at Agnes’ small figure standing in the doorway of her chambers. The girl was dressed for bed, her hair brushed neatly, and a light blue nightgown hanging off her frame. The thick book of stories she seemed to carry with her everywhere was folded against her chest.
“Are ye well?” Katherine asked, taking a few steps toward Agnes. “Do ye need me to get anythin’ for ye?”
“Nay, I daenae need anythin’,” she said, shifting from foot to foot as she seemed to carefully pick her next words. “But I was wonderin’ if ye could read me a tale before I fall asleep.” She paused for another beat, stilling her body. “Has it ever been too quiet for ye to drift off?”
“Aye,” Katherine said, softening her tone. She took a few more steps forward. “I ken exactly what that’s like. Yer mind fills the silence and keeps ye from driftin’ off.”
“It’s exactly like that,” Agnes said, grabbing onto Katherine’s wrist and bringing her into the room. “When it happened before Grandmother passed away, I would ask her to read to me. But now?—”
She cut herself off, seeming frustrated at her train of thought. Letting go of Katherine’s hand, she climbed onto her mattress. Then, she patted the space beside her, watching Katherine expectantly.
Katherine slid in beside Agnes, accepting the book with gentle hands when she handed it over. This was the first time she’d ever been allowed to touch the beautifully bound book. She ran her finger appreciatively down the spine, feeling the craftsmanship in every inch of the collection.
“This is a gorgeous book,” Katherine whispered reverently, knowing that it was special to Agnes.
“Me mother left it to me,” Agnes explained, reaching out to flip the cover open. She traced her finger over the name ‘Siobhan’ scrawled in the front. “I daenae remember anythin’ about her, but yer teachin’ me to read the same stories that she read. I can touch somethin’ that she wrote.”
“Ye’re still connected to her,” Katherine said, her voice thick with sympathy. She was no stranger to the loneliness that Agnes felt though she wasn’t fortunate enough to own anything that belonged to the woman who gave birth to her. “I’m honored that ye’re lettin’ me read to ye from it. I willnae so much as turn a page too quickly.”
“Do ye have a mother?” Agnes asked, her focus sharpening. She tilted her head up at Katherine. “I mean, do ye ken yer mother?”
“I didnae get to meet her,” Katherine admitted, staring down at Siobhan’s name. “It was just me and me father.”
“Like me and me father,” Agnes said with a hint of wonder.
“Aye. I think ye got quite lucky with yer father,” Katherine said, careful to keep from unloading her own troubles. She preferred that Agnes believe her childhood had been wonderful. “He cares about ye so much. Even if he’s a wee bit… difficult.”
“Grandmother always told me that Father and I were too similar for our own good,” Agnes muttered, the corner of her mouth twitching. “She always said that if we were too serious, our lives would pass us by too quickly. And Father always told her that if we didnae perform our duties, life wasnae worth livin’ at all.”
“I’m inclined to believe she may have had a point,” Katherine said, nudging Agnes playfully with her elbow. “But yer father isnae wrong either. Ye’ve been learnin’ how to balance the two. Ye take care of yer duties, so ye can have moments where ye arenae serious.”
Agnes considered that for a moment, slowly flipping through the pages as she looked for a story. “Do ye think that he will ever learn? The balance?”
