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“You do not know me. What if I . . .”
She stops, moving so quickly I’m not in the least prepared for the knife she points at my neck. Where did it even come from? I shove away a vision of it tucked between her breasts.
Curia Commander indeed.
Eyes blazing, she doesn’t move her hand away. The tip of her blade is so close I can feel its presence just above my skin.
“Once again, you underestimate a woman’s place.”
Definitely lavender. I can smell it easily. Although my well-being should be foremost in my thoughts right now, it’s not.
“I vow not to do so again.”
From the look in her eyes, it’s obvious she doesn’t believe my claim, but it’s true. We are at an impasse, one I have to end.
“Shall we begin our training now? You are a Garra. Tell me, Aedre, what am I thinking?”
I’m thinking of two round breasts nearly pressed against me. I’m thinking of her sweet scent and the small smile I spied back in the village. I’m thinking this woman is unlike any other.
Something flashes in her eyes. “Do not . . .”
Too late.
“You are quite beautiful.”
She lowers her hand, but I grasp it before she moves away.
“What am I thinking?” he presses.
“I’m not sure what tall tales you’ve heard, my lord, but I do not read thoughts.”
Her wrist is so small, so delicate in my hand. Very much unlike her personality. Delicate is not a word I’d use to describe her. Not at all.
“But you do read expressions? Feelings?”
She snatches her hand back. “I do.”
“And?”
She makes a most unladylike sound. “And yours says you’d like to stick your cock in me. What of it?”
She continues on, forcing me to take long strides to catch her.
“Nay, Lady Aedre.”
We reach an outcropping of rocks and, weaving her way through it, Aedre climbs deftly toward one particularly flat stone. She arranges her skirts and sits, and I settle in beside her. Though it is large enough for both of us, we sit closer than we might have elsewhere.
The sound of the surf and seagulls reminds me of home, and the spot is as beautiful as the woman beside me.
To our right lies the village, a circle of buildings with the road we took to reach it from the south clearly visible. And in front of us, my favorite of all, the sea. Not a turquoise blue like back home, but an angry grey-blue—defiant, like the people of Murwood. Like the woman sitting next to me.
Much too close.
“I’d not stick my cock in you, if given the chance.”
Her brows rise. “Then I am not the Garra my grandmother thinks I am.”
She misunderstands me.
