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He tucked a wisp of her long dark hair behind her ear, his finger slowly stroking the edge. “I trust you.”
A sturdy knock on her door interrupted them and the shiver that raced through her.
“Enter,” Magnus called out.
Thomas entered. “You are needed.”
Magnus nodded, then turned to Reena. “I will give orders that you are to be helped with the tower room, but the mornings are ours to spend touring the keep, and in the evenings we will discuss our findings.” With a kiss of her hand he left, closing the door behind him.
Perplexed by the touch of intimacy, she stared at the closed door. If she gave thought to the time they spent together, she would see that he often reached out to touch her. And while his touch had at first been no more than a helping hand, it had slowly changed without her realizing it—until now.
His hand had often gone to her arm, guiding her along dark passageways. His arm would find her waist when stairwells became steep, and he would stand close beside her when looking over a map, his cheek brushing hers.
Was it on purpose?
Did he find her interesting?
Did he find her appealing?
He would not tend toward intimacy if he did not at least find her appealing.
Or did he favor a mere sexual romp?
Her thoughts were once again a whirlwind of questions, and she shook her head, growing tired of the endless barrage of doubts. She was grateful for the faint knock at her door, the intrusion helping to clear her mind.
“Enter,” she said and smiled when Brigid entered. Her grin grew wider when she saw that her friend held a tray filled with tarts and a pitcher of—she sniffed the air. “Old Margaret made her winter brew and you made your fruit tarts.” She rubbed her hands together in anticipation and cleared a small table to move in front of the hearth.
Brigid’s smile was generous. “Aye, I thought you could use both. You have been busy of late.”
She set the tray down while Reena pulled two chairs to the table. The fire snapped and crackled and provided a toasty warmth to the room. The two women sat and were soon enjoying the winter brew and the tarts.
“Your mother tells everyone that while she wishes you would visit with them more often, she knows how busy you are in the service of Lord Dunhurnal.” Brigid laughed lightly. “Your father once again tells his tales, though now they are about you. Your parents are proud of you.”
Reena’s smile was tender. “I am glad to hear this. I had worried so about them.”
“You worried about everyone except yourself.” Brigid did not accuse: she reminded.
A whimper caught their attention, and it grew louder as Reena walked to the door. She opened it, and Horace ran in, heading straight for the table.
Reena returned to her seat and gave the pup, who had grown considerably over the last few weeks, a generous piece of her tart.
“See,” Brigid said on a laugh. “You even put the pup before yourself.”
“Can you not see that he grows and needs the sustenance?” Reena laughed herself.
“Horace gets sustenance from everyone.”
“Food is plentiful.”
“Because of you,” Brigid reminded. “The villagers are grateful, though they remain fearful that Kilkern will have his retribution.”
“Magnus will see to Kilkern,” Reena said with confidence.
“Aye, I agree, but memories of last winter linger, and if by chance Kilkern gains control of this land, he will be harsh in his revenge.”
“How could he do that? Magnus’s strength far surpasses his.”
“Gossip has started that Kilkern will petition the king to return Dunhurnal land to him since it is rightfully his.”
