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I tied the red silk ribbon to the crown of my head to hold back my unbound hair, slung my cape around my shoulders, and followed her out the door with genuine pleasure for a social event.
Dinner was raucous, rowdy, and fun. The dwarves, although stubborn, weren't rude. At least, not to me. Argen responded to anyone that tried to say anything about me, and I beamed at him with appreciation. Sahlyn wasn’t so lucky. They teased his tawny hair and good looks. He even had to compare stomach muscles with a younger male dwarf, and I won’t deny that my mouth went dry as he counted his abdominal muscles against the others. His scars and stories of monster slewing did gain him respect, and I held in my account of saving him from the demon wolf. He wouldn’t tell the tale without my consent, but I knew gaining the dwarves' respect was important to him. Sahlyn was a warrior and like called to like. It might take some work to get the battle-loving dwarves to respect him because he was a human, but Sahlyn would accomplish it. He’d already gained Argen’s respect. When Argen told his brethren the tale of our fight through the woods, he painted Sahlyn and me in a warrior light equal to his own.
When the dwarves questioned Sahlyn’s weapon, his eyes found mine. So, hedidknow it was my make. I had never gotten around to voicing it, and I assumed he had no idea. But, with that knowing look, it would seem that he knew my “family” had made it. I dipped my chin in consent to his unspoken question.
“This fine weapon was crafted by…” He gestured to me, and everyone’s eyes swiveled in my direction.
“The blade was designed and crafted by my hand,” my voice rang out strong and sure, but I was quaking in my bones.
Esme telling me my work was good was one thing, but to have this community of dwarves scrutinize my weaponry stole my breath. Yet, Iknewmy work was exceptional—maybe not to dwarven standards.
Argen stared at me in disbelief for a second, and I swallowed. I hadn’t told him I made weapons. Then he ran a finger down the gleaming blade that Sahlyn had set on the table.
“This craftsmanship is as fine as any dwarf’s I’ve ever seen.” His eyes grazed on me again, perplexed, as if I’d kept this secret from him.
A murmur of agreement swept through the warriors as each of them touched the sword, held it up, and weighted its consistency.
“I’ve nay seen a finer sword fit fer the height of human’s ‘fore.”
“Aye.”
Not a single dwarf said a negative word about my work, and Sahlyn met my eyes over their heads with a twinkle of pride. I answered Sahlyn’s wide grin with my own. Pride filled me, and a warmth of belonging and connection that I didn’t expect with coming here. Tears crawled up my throat and prickled in the back of my eyes.
After dinner, I watched Sahlyn go through battle moves with Argen and three other male dwarves in a training pit. I knew I should get in there and move my body too, but that wouldn’t do in this dress. So I’d wait until my clothes were clean before I trained with them.
My eyes grazed on Sahlyn’s bare torso, and I sucked in a breath as the light of the fire shone on the glistening sweat that slid down his back. Damn the man for being so exquisitely built, cut with lithe muscle and golden skin. A dark tattoo curled around his shoulders to his back and down some of his left arm. I wasn’t close enough to study it, but I was sure I recognized tentacles and an anchor.
“You’re drooling.”
My mouth snapped shut as I whipped my head to Esme. Her knowing smirk and the glimmer in her eye made me huff in embarrassment.
She chuckled. “Don’t even deny it.” Her eyes went over Sahlyn and the other dwarf with his shirt off. Her eyes turned heated, and I grinned. She liked the dwarf that sparred with Sahlyn. Brec, I believe his name to be.
“What’s goin’ on with you two?”
I let out a breath. “Nothing.”
Esme snickered. “We both know that’s not true.”
Sahlyn glanced over at me as if he knew, and I quickly looked away. “Why would you say that?”
She gestured covertly. “Don’t play coy with me. There’s no need. He gazes at you all the time with affection and desire in his exceptional eyes.”
I wet my dry lips and looked back at Sahlyn, who was, again, staring at me. There was faint curling to one side of his mouth in that insufferably attractive smirk.
Damn it.
“We haven’t done… anything. At all.”
She glanced at me with a knowing smile. “Nothin’?”
“Well, I mean… We’ve shared a bed, butnothinghappened.”
“Sometimes, the deep intimacy of sharing a bed with another and havin’ nothin’ happen is far more than sex. It’s a longin’ of the heart when passion isn't in the mix with intimacy. Connection on such a great level makes the passion part more remarkable.”
Her eyes had swept Brec, and he glanced up simultaneously. Longing covered both of their faces.
“How long?”
