Curse of the Wolf King - Tessonja Odette Page 0,52
melts into gold makes it look like it’s been kissed by the sun. It needs to be tamed, yes, but I don’t hate it.”
“And my beard?” He scratches at the scruff on his chin.
“I don’t love the beard, but…I think there’s a decent jaw beneath it. You have strong cheekbones. Deep-set eyes and a heavy brow. It makes that rugged look seem not so bad. And your build.” I turn my study to his broad shoulders, his wide chest. Beneath the stained linen of his shirt, I can just make out hints of a firm musculature. Further proof is written over his bare forearms, roped muscle exposed by the rolled-up sleeves of his shirt. Strangely, my pulse begins to quicken, and my next words come out somewhat breathless. “Your build is desirable.”
He cocks his head, the corner of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Desirable? That’s a strong word.”
I take a step away, turning slightly to the side as heat flushes my cheeks. “To most women,” I amend. “Your build is desirable to most women.”
“And do you consider yourself most women?” he asks with a teasing, rumbling laugh, one that crawls up my spine and radiates down my arms like a caress. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was a natural at playing the rogue after all. Is he practicing for Imogen…or has he always had this insufferable ability to unsettle a woman like this?
“I most certainly do not,” I say and stride to the parlor door. “Unlike Imogen, I know the wolf beneath the façade and he’s getting on my last nerve. Good day.”
“If that’s all it takes to get you out of my parlor, I’ll be sure to get on your last nerve more often.”
I pause, hand clenched on the doorframe, and look over my shoulder at the king. Clever retorts swarm in my mind, but as I watch him grinning at the hearth, I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen such a smile from him. There’s teasing in it, and it’s no doubt at my expense, but there’s something in his posture that wasn’t there before. He sits taller now, straighter. The absence of his brooding slouch lends warmth to his expression. Whether he’s taken my advice about adopting an outer persona, or if this new sense of comfort and confidence is genuine, it’s not something I can bring myself to discourage.
Without a word, I slip quietly into the hall. As I make my way upstairs to my room, I can’t help but note yet another thing I don’t hate about Elliot Rochester.
I don’t hate his smile. In fact, it isn’t terrible at all.
19
The next morning, I wake to pounding on my door, followed by frantic feet as Micah and three other children his age stream into my room. “Wagons,” Micah says before I can ask what the commotion is all about. His eyes are bright, his grin stretching from ear to ear as he skips toward my bed.
I rub my eyes and sit up, meeting the gaze of the other children—two boys and a girl—standing behind Micah. None appear to have the same enthusiasm as Micah, each eying me with suspicion. “Good morning.” My voice comes out with a tired croak. “Wagons, you say?”
His head bobs up and down. “Three of them! Full of furniture. And there’s this fae wearing spectacles—”
“Foxglove is here already?” When I told the fae to come at his earliest convenience, I didn’t expect it to be so soon. Or so early. I spring from my bed and rush to the wardrobe. “Tell him I’ll be down at once.”
At that, the children skip from my room and slam the door behind them.
Blinking sleep from my eyes, I make haste to get dressed, choosing another gown from the wardrobe and then splashing my face with water from the washbasin. I don’t even bother pinning up my hair and simply brush it out to flow loose around my shoulders. If Amelie—the copper-haired seamstress—can get away with wearing her tresses long, then I don’t see why I shouldn’t. Especially considering the hurry I’m in.
By the time I make it downstairs and to the front hall, I find Foxglove and Elliot facing each other in an icy standoff.
“I was invited here by your steward, sir,” Foxglove says with a scoff.
Elliot slams his staff onto the flagstones. “This damn early?”
Foxglove flourishes a hand. “I have another job in town. If you want my services, you’ll accept them when I can offer them.”