Mr. Ashford cleared his throat once, twice. “This place must inspire romance then.”
She blinked. “I’m sorry?”
He waved a hand impatiently at the scenery. “The mythology surrounding this place, all that talk of elves, giving it a sense of magic. It certainly inspired romance between Synne and Ivar.”
“I might have thought so, long ago,” she murmured.
“You don’t now?”
“No,” she answered without hesitation.
His brows lowered. “Why?”
She let out a tense breath, wishing they were talking about anything but this. “Because, as much as I love the story of Synne and Ivar, what’s romantic about it? He left her, with a small child to care for. And though she eventually married another, it’s said she grieved for him the rest of her days.”
He was silent for a moment, standing beside her, looking out over the pool. And then he observed, “LikeRomeo and Juliet. People sigh over the love story. Yet it’s the worst tragedy.”
“Yes. Yes, exactly,” she replied. “Mere children, in the throes of passion, acting without thinking. And they lost their lives because of it.” She tilted her head, considering him. “But how do you know about such a tale?”
His lips quirked. “My mother insisted on it. She was a gentleman’s daughter, though she fell far after my father lost nearly everything we owned.”
His eyes closed briefly, as if in intense pain. Lenora longed to reach out, to lay a comforting hand on his arm.
Before she could, he straightened, seeming to physically shrug off the pall that had fallen around him. “But don’t think you’ll get out of it that easy,” he said, spearing her with a stern glare. “You can’t mention that Ivar left Synne and not finish the story.”
She blinked. “Well, I can’t tell you the story of his leaving when you’re just learning how they fell in love.”
He stared at her as if he couldn’t quite believe she’d denied him. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded, with all the officiousness of a Viking lord ordering a servant—Ivar come to life.
She managed to hide the smile that fought to break free. The man had spent the last week holding himself aloof. Yet now he was begging to hear the rest of it, like a child at bedtime.
“That, I’m afraid, is a story for another day.”
He frowned. “You refuse to tell me?”
“Lady Tesh wouldn’t approve.”
“Hang Lady Tesh!”
She snorted in laughter, quickly clamping a hand over her mouth to hold it back. At his disbelieving glance, however, she lost the fight entirely. She doubled over, her arms going about her middle as she shook with the force of her mirth. She laughed as she hadn’t in too many years, the sound of it rolling on and on, bouncing off the boulders and back at her.
Just as her laughter began to subside, he spoke.
“I don’t see what’s so blasted funny.”
And she was off again. Tears streaming down her cheeks, she gasped for breath. Yet still the laughter came, the release of it incredibly freeing. It was as if something had been unlocked within her in the last minutes. As if, in sharing something of herself with Mr. Ashford, a secret chamber of her heart had been opened.
As she wiped at her tears, clearing her vision, she noticed he was striding away from her.
Immediately she sobered and ran after him. “Mr. Ashford, I’m so sorry,” she called to his retreating back. “I wasn’t laughing at you. Well, I suppose I was, but it wasn’t to make fun of you. Mr. Ashford, will you please slow down.”
But the man made no indication he’d heard her. Frustrated—because, really, it wasn’t as if she’d been able to control it—she reached out and grabbed hold of his arm.
He spun to face her. Her hand, firmly attached to his sleeve, went with it, throwing her off balance. She stumbled forward, landing with a soft exhale into his chest.
The wind seemed to hardly blow, the birds quieted their calls. Even Lenora’s heart seemed to falter in her chest. She stared up at Mr. Ashford, her breath trapped. He stared back with wide eyes, so close she could see the darker blue outlining his iris, could hear the soft rasp of his breath. His arms came about her, bands of steel that anchored her to his chest. A chest that was amazingly firm and wide.
Her entire body flushed, awake with heat and life. Every inch of her thrummed, pressed from breasts to knee to his hard planes. So close, she could feel his heartbeat against the suddenly sensitive tips of her breasts.
