Page 33 of Ella’s Desire

Bronson had lingered about in the sunny room initially, expecting Ella to join her pet. When she had not arrived after some time, Bronson gave up the pretense of being there solely to find her. The green spine of the book he’d been reading before beckoned him from across the room.

He told himself he needed to continue to read for the additional insight on how to win over Ella. But after the prior evening, after holding her in his arms while her crises overtook her, he presumed he was doing rather well for himself. He had promised to please her so again in the future. The very idea made his cock go stiff.

A fortnight might as well be a lifetime.

He lifted the green book from the shelf. In reality, he was eager to discover what happened with the dragon and the troubadour.

He’d started reading with his body turned toward the bookshelf, ready to shove the book back into place at a moment’s notice. After a while, the shelf digging into his hip became uncomfortable, so he leaned against the wall by the window seat. The light pouring in from the glass window illuminated the pages and made reading remarkably easier.

While he read, Moppet continued to watch him with beady eyes, while cracking nuts open and digging them out with his one arm and his teeth.

Crack.

Bronson gave up all pretense of being prepared to free himself from the book by the time the dragon swooped down on the maiden, fire roaring from its open mouth. Enraptured, Bronson sat on the padded cushion laid out over the stone bench. It was pillowy soft beneath him and warm from the sunlight streaming in. A welcome contrast from the cold stone he’d been leaning against.

Crack.

He settled his back upon the stone wall behind him and tucked his feet up on the bench, as Ella did. The book propped perfectly against his thighs. Genius.

“What are you doing?”

Bronson startled at the feminine voice and lurched into an upright sitting position. Ella stood in the doorway with her hand propped on her hip.

Crack.

“Nothing,” Bronson stammered. “Spending time with Moppet.”

The little beast shot him a look out of the corner of his eye, as if contradicting Bronson’s claim.

“Spending time with him?” Ella’s brow lifted.

Bronson tried to hide the book in his hands. “Aye, just discussing things as men and squirrels do. Eh, Moppet?”

Both Ella’s brows rose this time with skepticism. “He only speaks squirrel.”

Bronson was going to offer a simple shrug when Ella craned her neck to see what he held in his hands. It was in that moment of desperation that Bronson began chattering. Like a squirrel.

Moppet staggered back on his fat little legs and blinked at Bronson, who hoped he’d somehow managed to convey something horribly offensive to the beast.

Ella laughed. “What are you really doing in here?” She stepped closer and made a show of examining what he held in his hands. “Are you reading?”

“Aye.” He lifted a single shoulder and tried to turn away from her.

“What book?” She touched her hand to his shoulder and, without force, drew him back to her.

He unfurled his fingers from the plain green cover, knowing well enough that he had been caught.

“It’s my book.” She lifted it from his grip. “Bronson, were you reading one of my stories?”

He nodded his head slowly. “Aye.”

“Why?” Her brow furrowed.

He took a breath, hesitated, opened his mouth hesitated.

“Please be honest.” Ella watched him with a guarded expression.

Honest.