Page 67 of This Is Not True Love’s Kiss

“He doesn’t see me like that,” I said. “He never wanted to get married. Neither did I. Now we’re stuck together and making the best of it. That’s it. It’s an arrangement, nothing more.”

Ceri pushed the golden curls from her eyes. “Then why is he sleeping next to you every night?”

“I—” I paused. “It’s complicated. I don’t like to sleep alone, and he discovered that, and now he’s doing something nice. Because that’s what he does. He does the right thing.”

Ceri looked down her button nose at me, clearly not buying what I was saying. “You know, things have shifted between you two these last few weeks. I don’t know what caused the change, but I would bet my dress shop that Lor is not sleeping next to you because it’s the right thing to do. And I would also bet my dress shop that you like him sleeping next to you.”

I swallowed, heat flushing my body as I shifted to my bottom and tucked my legs underneath me. “Neither of us wants more, and I refuse to be chained to anyone.”

Marsten rearranged the long green skirt he wore. “So don’t be chained to him. Have fun with him. Use him. Please use him,” Marsten said, gaze devouring Lor as he lifted a heavy piece of stone. “That man deserves to be used.”

“He doesn’t want that from me,” I said, thinking of how he hadn’t made a single move. Hadn’t tried to kiss me, hadn’t tried to do anything other than just sleep next to me.

“So find out,” Ceri said. “Do something with him, something romantic . . . something where just the two of you can have time together to talk.”

I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing all of this was ridiculous. I was thousands of years old. Lor was a forty-two-year-old man. We were married. Neither of us were inexperienced. And we had been getting along. The thought of kissing Lor, of him rolling on top of me and burying himself inside of me sent a thrill through my body.

Maybe it was finally time to do more than just sleep next to my husband. The only problem was I didn’t know how to bridge the gap that still lay between us.

CHAPTER 35

Lor

Ahand shook me awake, and I jolted up in Aoife’s bed, almost hitting my head on the rafters. I blinked the sleep from my eyes, looking out the window to see the dark sky, the moon, the stars.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, turning toward Aoife. “What’s happened?”

She bit her lip, her hands in her lap, looking uncharacteristically bashful. My gaze traveled the length of her body. She’d started leaving the door unlocked for me every night, and she was usually sleeping, buried under her blanket, by the time I arrived. But now, with her sitting up like this, I took in the silky blue nightgown, the fabric so thin, the straps clinging to her shoulders, and the neckline plunging to show her cleavage.

Fuck.

After that night we’d slept next to each other in the tent, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep without her in my arms again. The change had been so sudden, so unexpected, but I found myself there in front of her door, knocking and hoping she’d answer. Every night since I’d slept with my wife cradled in my arms. Nothing more had happened between us, and I wouldn’t push it. I’d wait for Aoife to show me that she wanted more, and if she never wanted more, then so be it. I’d continue sleeping next to her, holding her in my arms, as long as she wanted.

“Nothing is wrong,” Aoife said. “I—there’s something I wanted to show you.”

“In the middle of the night?” I asked, quirking a brow.

She huffed, and I smiled at the change, her bashfulness now gone and replaced by her usual prickly self. “Stop looking so bloody alarmed. I’m not planning on murdering you. I just want to show you something.”

I was fully awake now, intrigued by my wife, by whatever it was she wanted to share with me. “Okay,” I said. “Then let’s go.”

* * *

It took twenty minutes to walk to the opposite end of the castle and up the tall west tower. I rarely visited this part of the castle. The servants’ quarters were down below, and the tower above their quarters used to be a watch tower in the time of Fairwitch, but we no longer needed it.

We arrived at the top of the tower, my heart pounding, my breathing labored after the long walk up the spiral stairs.

“I haven’t been here in a long time,” Aoife said as she walked toward the stone wall that encircled the top.

From up here, it felt like we might very well be part of the night sky, able to reach out and touch the stars.

She turned to me and leaned against the wall, goosebumps pebbling her arms as a brisk breeze blew past us. “I’d sneak up here at night to get fresh air and to clear my head. Sometimes I’d speak to the sky.”

“Speak to the sky?” I echoed.

She twisted a strand of hair around her finger. “I’d ask the stars to watch over me, to guide me like they so often guide sailors or travelers. I can’t say they listened, but it felt nice just being able to talk and get all my feelings out. I always felt bravest up here, at the top of the world, like I could admit my deepest, darkest secrets, my biggest truths.”

“You never had anyone to talk to?” That sounded so incredibly lonely and sad.