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Was this real or was it a witch working her wiles on him?
Varrick pulled away, turning his back on her, trying to gain control of his raging passion, fearful he would succumb to it, to a witch.
Fia stood unsteady on her feet until she feared she would collapse, and she sunk down on the bench waiting for sanity to return.
“Go rest!” Varrick ordered without turning to look at his wife.
He did not have to repeat himself, Fia hurried out of his solar and to her bedchamber so fast that she did not see the strange stares cast her way.
Varrick remained where he was, bracing his hand on the mantel, trying to calm his raging passion and his annoyance at himself. Had he allowed her to work her magic on him? Was he falling under her spell? Was she more witch than woman? If she was, why then did their kiss seem so right? Why did she feel like she belonged in his arms? Why did he desperately want to couple with her?
He fisted one hand and brought it down in anger on the mantel. The wood creaked but did not crack. It remained whole, but wasn’t that how the kiss had made him feel—whole? He had felt nothing like that, not ever. He did not even know such a wonderous feeling was possible. Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe Fia had conjured it.
He had to fight. Had to stay strong. But most of all, he had to know for sure what it was he was feeling. For if it was real, he never wanted to let her go.
* * *
It waslate but Fia could not sleep, wearing only her shift, she paced in her bedchamber, staying close to the hearth. She had not left the room since she had fled there after the kiss, and he had ordered her gone. She had requested supper in her room, not that she could eat, and worried her husband might refuse her, but he hadn’t. He let her be and she was grateful. She was not ready to face him yet. Her mind swirled with thoughts, and she wished the voice that guarded her would help now, but it had remained silent.
Was this for her to find out on her own?
A little help would be appreciated but no matter how much she requested it, the voice remained silent.
Her thoughts drifted to the kiss repeatedly, as if she could not get enough of it and if she were honest, she would admit that was true. She hadn’t had enough. She wanted more from her husband and if she were wise, she would realize how dangerous that could prove to be and yet no amount of reasoning seemed to satisfy that thought.
And what had he meant when he claimed she belonged to him? Did he intend to keep her?
Knowledge. She needed more knowledge when it came to this, but where did she get it? Who did she trust to speak to about it?
You learn together.
Finally, the voice in her head spoke, but it was not what she wanted to hear. How in heaven’s name would they learn together when confusion was strong between them?
Trust.
To trust her husband was asking a lot. She was just beginning to come to know him, understand him. But wasn’t he doing the same with her, coming to know and understand her? Or had he already decided she was a witch, sealing her fate?
Trust.
Trust the voice? Trust him? Trust herself?
Her life depended on which one she chose.
* * *
Go to her now.Be done with it. You need her. You must have her.
Varrick argued with his own thoughts. “Nay, it wasn’t real.”
She made him feel that way. Her wicked ways were responsible.None of it was real.
He threw the blanket off himself and got out of bed. He stood there a moment, naked, his mind in turmoil. It had been in turmoil since the kiss. It continued to tear at his insides, not having been able to eat supper, Argus questioning if he was unwell and worried the witch had cast a harmful spell on him.
Had she?
He had not known confusion since he had been young and wondered why the man and woman who had raised him treated him so badly. It took time to understand that the pair were simply cruel people and to survive their cruelty he needed to turn numb, not feel anything. No joy. No sorrow. Nothing, for if he felt nothing, then he would not hurt, would not suffer.
He had made sure to keep himself numb… until Fia.
