AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Stop wriggling, lass.”
“I can put my own cloak on,” I say a little waspishly. His scent is all up in my nose. I really don’t appreciate noticing how nice it is when I’m vexed with him.
His growl warns me that I have ventured over an invisible ‘Lor’ line. I glance up to find him scowling down at me. “I swear you take to bratting just to test me. My palm is itching. Don’t make me correct you here where anyone might walk past and see me lifting your skirt and turning your bottom red.”
I don’t blink for the longest time as my body goes up in flames; the impasse is finally broken when he steps back and, without evident shame, adjusts the thick bulge tenting his leather pants.
My eyes bug in my head. My mouth opens and closes, and not a peep comes out.
“How did you survive this long?” he mutters as though to himself.
Somehow, we make it out the door, where the fresh air acts like a slap to the face, rousing me from the lusty stupor his mere presence delivers.
We go to the market. I buy the few supplies I need. We return home. During all this time, Lor does not speak a single word. He does, however, glare and occasionally growl at any man who so much as glances my way.
It is a strained outing, and I’m relieved when we have returned home, for it means I will be able to take the chance to go to my room and find some privacy to ease the growing needy ache… which is when Marshal arrives.
Only when I see the two men side by side do I realize just how imposing Lor is and how not Marshal is by contrast.
“Does the beast need to accompany you everywhere?” Marshal sneers at Lor, while sliding his arm around my waist. He has never touched me like this before, and I am shocked.
“Remember what I said,” Lor says, pinning Marshal with a look.
Marshal’s hand drops away.
Lor pivots and strides off.
Marshal orders tea… Like he is the lord here and not merely a guest.
As soon as the servants have gone and my mother arrives to join us, he drops his news. “I should like to formalize our betrothal,” he announces, taking my hand and beaming. “My father has agreed that the lack of dowry, while unorthodox, is acceptable.”
“That is… magnanimous of him,” my mother says diplomatically, her eyes on me. I did not miss her slight wince at the mention of dowry. Perhaps she senses I’m not all in, where Marshal is concerned. We talked about it only yesterday, and she made it clear I should not feel compelled to marry the man.
The truth is I do.
“When were you thinking of?” She is looking at me, not Marshal, her eyes searching mine, seeking evidence that I want this, that I am all in.
“As soon as possible,” Marshal says brightly.
* * *
I am trapped in a web of my own making.
I tell myself it is the right and practical thing to do, and then I cry myself to sleep.
Worse, I feel like some kind of hussy to be lusting after Lor when I thought myself to love Aston to the exclusion of all others. It is for the best that I am to marry Marshal swiftly for my heart is a mess.
The matter is taken out of my hands. Marshal visits every day. The web binds ever tighter around me as the plans for the wedding proceed.
I miss my former home at Penley with the princess tower.
I miss my friend, Dara.
I miss the pretty village belonging to the Baxter clan and harbor a stupid notion that if only I could see Aston again, he might liberate me from this mess.
ChapterSix
Freya
