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“Who?”
“Me.”
He whispered the word near my ear before walking past, leaving me breathless. I wanted to know how I reminded him of himself. I wanted to know where our similarities lay. Was it deep, almost animalistic? Was it the fact we both belonged under the sky with the grass between our toes? Or was it something emotional? I didn’t know about his past or his family. What happened to him? And how did he end up in Farrow’s Gate?
By the time we reached Enola’s she was sitting on the bench in the wagon cart, reins in hand, and feeding her goat a bundle of herbs. “That dress suits you well.”
“Thank you.” I smiled and slid my hands down the sides and pretended I didn’t notice Baine watching me.
“Get in,” Enola said. “I’ll have you back by sunset.”
Baine jumped into the back of the wooden cart, which was extremely small. How would the both of us fit? He leaned over and held out his hand, which I took.
“Umm.” I looked around at the three-foot-wide space.
Baine sat and stretched out his arms along the edge of the cart. “Sit.”
“Where?”
He glanced down at his lap, and I swear my face turned bright red. “Okay.”
I sat on his legs, and he grunted.
“Sorry,” I said in a hushed tone. “There’s not a lot of room here.”
With a quick swipe of his arm, he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me on to his lap, holding me back against him. I froze, not knowing what to do with my hands, my feet, my head.
“Relax,” he said. “It’s a long ride and you’ll be more comfortable this way.”
With that he leaned back his head, closing his eyes, arm still wrapped around my waist. The cart began moving and I did the only thing I could, lean back into the fae holding me and watch the landscape pass us by.
