That was when I got shy again so, for some lame reason, I kept staring at the door.
“Finnie, love, whatever this is, you’ve got ten minutes,” Frey reminded me, my body jerked and I turned to him.
His arms were crossed on his chest and his eyes were on me. His beautiful, gentle green-brown eyes.
Shit.
I sucked in breath.
All right, I did it, what I did wasn’t a bad thing to do, not by any stretch of the imagination, so I had to get over this ridiculous shyness and just get on with it.
So I told him, “While you were at the hunt, Mother and I went into Fyngaard. We went shopping.”
Frey didn’t speak but I could tell by the look on his face he was wondering why I imparted this not very interesting news on him for he was a man not to mention a super-cool action hero Raider who commanded dragons, and his expression made it clear both types of men, no matter what world they lived on (not that we had Raiders in my world), didn’t care about shopping.
I bit my lip, sucked in another breath and then moved to the wardrobe. Opening a door, I disappeared behind it and pulled out the big, wooden box I’d put there a few hours ago.
Then I juggled it as I turned back to him and closed the door. He was standing where he was before and he was still watching me. He continued to watch me, his eyes flicking to the box twice as I moved to the bed, set the box on it and opened the top.
Then I reached in and whispered, “While we were there, I bought you something.”
Carefully, I grasped the beautiful, large, dragon fashioned out of delicate spun glass in brilliant colors of gold (neck and feet), vermillion (head and body), violet and a deep sapphire blue that had gold flecks in it (both colors making up the wings) with the tips of its talons, horns, wings, tail and its eyes all painted a glossy onyx and I shifted to face him.
Frey had turned his body toward me as I walked through the room but now he did not move, he did not speak and his eyes did not leave the delicate piece held out in my hands for him to see.
When he continued to stare at it, face expressionless, body unmoving, I rushed to explain, “I, uh… saw it as we rode into Fyngaard, um… when we came back. It was in the window of one of the shops. I thought it was beautiful and wanted to go back and check it out but, uh… when you, um… explained you are who you are and you can, uh… do what you can do, well…” His eyes came to mine and I stopped talking when I saw not one thing in them, nothing, not happiness, not confusion, not an indication he was humoring his idiot wife, nothing so I whispered, “So, I guess I thought, you being you, you needed to have this.”
I thought more than that. It was a dragon, it was beautiful, it was majestic, even in its delicacy it depicted the fierce power of the beasts, beasts he controlled. And I thought he needed to own it because, in its beauty and fierce power, it personified him.
But it was more. When I left, I wanted him to have something of me, something exquisite, something beautiful, something to remember the times we shared which already, even though I’d been with him a short time, were both of those. Definitely.
And now I was seeing this idea was totally lame.
“It’s… I’m sorry Frey,” I whispered. “Thinking about it now, it’s pretty stupid. You hunt and ride horses and sail ships. A delicate, glass dragon –”
He cut me off to order tersely, “Lay it in its box.”
I blinked at his tone and at the harsh look now on his face.
It wasn’t totally lame. He hated it.
He actually hated it.
God.
“Right.” I was still whispering but it had to be said, my heart hurt. I mean, Frey could be severe and even callous but most of the time he was gentle. It was a gift. Even if he hated it, I was surprised he wasn’t even trying to be gentle.
I laid it in its box but I no sooner had it resting in its bed of vermillion silk then Frey was at my side, flipping the lid to it.
Eek. He totally hated it.
I watched as he took the box off the bed, moved it to the dresser and set it on it, so deep in my dejection; I didn’t notice the care he took. Then I watched in vague confusion that coated my disappointment as he walked to the door and not only turned the skeleton key in the lock but also shoved one of the wooden bolts home.
Then I watched in sharper confusion, some surprise and still with disappointment as he stalked to me.
Okay, um… was he pissed?
It was just a present. A lame one, sure, but that was nothing to be angry about.