Bitterburn (Gothic Fairytales #1) - Ann Aguirre Page 0,23
doesn’t alarm me. Gently, I smooth my thumb over whatever part of Njål I’m touching.
“The potential is there,” I whisper. “Though I must also add that no farmer can ever predict what seeds will grow, even if a grand harvest seems likely at planting time.”
His breath is sharp and ragged, coming fast, as if I’ve undone him with this small, unexpected touch and words that make no promises. Then he wraps both hands around mine slowly, with such hesitation and care that I could free myself with the most minute resistance. I remain still, waiting to see what more he’ll do.
With my eyes closed, I feel everything more intensely—the friction of our skin as he slowly chafes my hand to warm it and the gentle scrape of the claws he tries to keep away from me. He’s startled when I touch him back, adding my other hand to the mix, and it’s too much, too fast I suppose, because he withdraws, just as I’m beginning to enjoy the sensations. The top of my head tingles, a pleasurable feeling that goes all the way down my neck. Too bad, I want to touch him more.
“You truly aren’t afraid of me,” he says in such a marveling tone that I wish I could see his expression.
“Have you given me reason to be?”
“Perhaps I will,” he says somberly. “If you could gaze into my heart, I suspect you would find the contents alarming indeed.”
For some reason, chills shiver through me, gooseflesh rising on my arms and legs. Not that I’m in danger exactly, but I truly know little of Njål. What if there’s a good reason he was cursed? Perhaps he deserves this punishment. For all I know, he could be quite wicked and deranged.
At least my reply is composed. “That remains to be seen. Did you have a book in mind, based on my criteria?”
A long pause, and when he responds, his voice has resumed its usual tone, friendly and conversational, lacking that deeper intimacy. “The Knight’s Mistress should do the job nicely. Let me fetch it.”
It’s a title I’ve never heard of, but it’s set in a castle that I imagine to be similar to Bitterburn in its heyday, the tale of a poor man who rises to knighthood, but he can’t marry the woman he loves because his liege orders him to wed his daughter instead. There’s a great deal of skullduggery, tragic and heated glances, and other carrying-on, before the poor wife is murdered, and it’s frankly hard for me to keep track of all the tangled threads when Njål’s voice is so soothing.
At some point, I doze. And I’m dreaming of the softest touch, smoothing my hair like I’m a princess in the stories. Gods, that feels good. I tilt my head for more, and the caress moves to my throat, so delicate that it could only be a fantasy. My nipples perk, and I awaken slowly, realizing that I’m alone in the library and full dark has fallen. His chair is empty, and presumably has been for a while.
I hope he doesn’t take my falling asleep as a sign of disinterest. Maybe he’ll consider it as a compliment because I certainly couldn’t relax so fully if I felt unsafe in his company. Musing on that, I check on Agatha and Bart and interrupt an intimate moment. Averting my eyes, I back out of the stable after ascertaining they have plenty of fodder and clean water. Oh, yes, there will certainly be kids and goat milk in my future. Time to finish that treatise on animal husbandry tucked away in my room.
Though it’s late for a meal, I haven’t eaten since this morning. I really want a roast; chicken or duck would be incredible. Sadly, I’ve no skill at hunting and I’m afraid to leave the keep anyway. How am I supposed to solve this problem? I’m careful not to frame any thoughts that could be construed as wishes because the last thing I want is for haunches of meat to fall from the sky.
I make do with fry bread and lentils, which I’m polishing off as I hear Njål enter the kitchen. Astonishing, this is the first time I’ve encountered him more than once in the same day. It must mean something, but I’ve no idea what.
“Hungry?” I ask.
“I’m starved.” There’s something different about him tonight, though I can’t put my finger on what exactly.
At this moment, I just know his energy feels different somehow, the odd