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Surprise escaped on her breath when she realized the man was blind.
His deft fingers continued to work with confidence in each stroke of the knife against bone. Several musical instruments lay near him. One of them was a lute created from what appeared like a bear skull with horns. Another was two discs that likely clapped together to create a loud sound.
The breath fled her lungs when she spotted a beautiful white bone flute. Joel would love it. But even more than just a simple flute…
“Please,” she begged in a breathy whisper. “Teach me how to carve a flute.”
The man paused briefly in his work, not looking her way. But then he resumed his fluid knife strokes, saying nothing. Just when she opened her mouth to beg again, he answered her.
“Sun Fae should not linger in the forest.”
“We aren’t staying long. And I’m half Forest Fae.”
More contemplative silence. At least until he turned his head and gazed at her with white, milky eyes. “Emeric’s daughter.”
“Yes.” She moved closer, wary of the curious gazes following her movements. “Will you teach me?”
Another pause.
And then, “I owe my friend my life. I will teach you. But bone carving is a natural skill for our kind. I suspect you will pick it up quickly.”
“Thank you,” she breathed as she pulled a log stump over and sat beside him. She had no idea how to thank Joel or show him what he meant to her. Perhaps this would help convey her feelings.
Chapter 14
Joel’s eyebrows pulled together in worry as he cast a glance toward the front door. Still no sign of Nyana. She’d left hours ago. In tears. He’d never meant to make her cry. All he’d wanted was to create a safe, happy marriage for her. Sure, he wanted more. But never at her expense. How could he possibly salvage this?
Your turn, Maisy reminded him in his mind, startling him back to their game. The acrid stench of overbaked scones lingered in the air as he, Maisy, and Eva sat on the floor around a string creating a circle. Within the circle lay a couple dozen smooth, carved bones in the shape of spheres. Whoever hit the most spheres out of the circular space would win the game.
With a larger bone sphere in his hand, he aimed for one of the smaller spheres in the middle, rolled it, but missed.
Maisy giggled. “Papa Joel, you aren’t very good at this game.”
His mouth twitched as he attempted to pull his mind away from Nyana and to his stepchildren. Six collected spheres rested beside Maisy, two beside Eva, and only one beside him. “Not as good as you two. I’m wondering when your mother will get home.”
The five-year-old’s mouth quirked to the side as she stared intently at the game, eyes unfocused. Finally, her expression lit up with a bright smile. “She said she’s just heading back.”
Panic shot through him as he jumped to his feet. What was he supposed to do? What was he supposed to say?
As he paced back and forth in the room, he ran his fingers through his hair and over the bronze tattoos on his knuckles in his nervousness. He grabbed a cloth and wiped down the already clean counter, only to do it again.
“It’s fine,” he murmured to himself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Just pretend nothing happened, and she will do the same. It’s for the best.”
The front door opened.
His head darted up.
He froze as a pair of blue eyes found his in an instant. Nyana didn’t look away.
“Mama!” Maisy called from their abandoned game. “Papa Joel burned the scones. That’s why it smells yucky in here.”
He grimaced apologetically. “They were still in the oven when you left. I took them out, but they looked underbaked. So I put them back in and, well, forgot about them.” She started toward him where he stood in the kitchen area. “They aren’t burned, per say. Just a bit crunch—”
A grunt of surprise escaped him when she placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down.
And kissed him.
His shock rippled into overbearing happiness. Emotion choked him as he slowly slid his hands around her waist, wanting to memorize her sweet touch and the feel of her pressed against him. He returned her kiss. Slowly. Hesitantly. He’d wanted this for years. Many times, he’d imagine what her lips might taste like. And now he knew.
