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“At first, your mother was a sight to see. Holed herself in her parlor for a week, then watched for the post every morning. But we had some visitors that kept her company.” She tossed another pillow my way. “And between you and me, I think your father sent for them, the guests, just for that purpose.”
We chatted a bit more, she feeding me the local news of births and deaths, highlights of things I had missed since being away.
Soon, I was dressed and going down to the kitchen for a bite to eat. All my life here, I had rarely eaten my breakfast in the dining room, having always wanted to sate my hunger in the kitchen, grabbing whatever Cook had set aside for me before escaping outside, before my watcher could get her hands on me.
This morning was different, though. Not only was I different, but the atmosphere was as well. Somber, wary. Whispers spread among the staff—no laughter, no banter. But each face I encountered smiled at me, and when Cook saw me she took me against her ample bosom and enveloped me in one of her special spine-snapping hugs. She smelled of flour and sugar and piped tobacco, which her husband, Hambul, smoked on the regular.
“Child, you have been missed. Let me look at ye.” She pulled away, holding my hands out. “Married life looks good on ye. Don’t know what you put in that hair to make it so pale, but it sure is strikin’!”
“Oh, something in fashion.”
She touched it cautiously, and I laughed.
“Looks like it’s been dipped in moon water!” She leaned over to the side and handed me a covered plate. “Here ye go, child. I knew you’d be eating it in here. But don’t you be going out in that frigid cold, now, otherwise you’ll have blue skin to go with that white hair.” She paused on my eyes, caught on their color. I turned away so she wouldn’t notice them too much.
“Thank you, Cook. I’ll just eat this on the run. I won’t go outside, promise.”
I left the kitchens and walked through the house, eating the hot rolls with cooked ham slices as I went. The parlor was empty, as was the library. I passed Father’s study and turned back, having noticed a familiar figure standing in front of the desk.
Fadon was facing away from the door, his hands folded loosely behind his back. There was no one else in the room, but a fire was burning in the hearth, and I saw evidence that Father had already been here earlier.
“Fadon?” I stepped into the room and stood beside him. He was staring out the window in deep thought. But now he turned his head and looked at me with a smile so tender I felt it in my toes.
“Meleera.” He had shaved, and his black hair, grown longer now, was gathered low at his nape, tied with a leather cord in red. I could smell that delicious Fadon smell of his: warm musk, hickory, and a slight hint of clove.
“Are you looking for my father?”
He shook his head, smile still in place. “No. I was remembering.”
“Remembering?”
He faced me fully now and gazed at the plate of crumbs in my hand before taking it from me and setting it down on Father’s desk. When he took his hands in mine I let out a breath I hadn’t known I had been holding.
“Remembering that day we stood here just like this. The day I vowed to keep you safe, vowed to bound you to House Trajan. And you vowed the same.”
I shut my eyes at the implied reminder that I had indeed promised myself to House Trajan, swore to him, in fact.
“So I propose, right now, right here, that we do it again.”
I opened my eyes. “Fadon…”
“No, not marriage, but another promise. I will accept you as my mate, if you’ll still have my surly ass. I’m sorry I made you wait this long.” His shoulders rose as he took a deep breath. “I’ve had plenty of time to think, and all thoughts ended at the same place: you in my life. In name only will Lucius be your husband, but when it’s just us, the four of us, I want you to count me as yours, too. I love you, Sierra. And I want you… have wanted you from the moment before we first entered this room to take our vows. Will you have me?”
I could only nod, because to speak would open the door to a flood of garbled, teary words. He pulled me to him and held me, kissing my temple, the top of my head. I inhaled his scent. The relief that he’d chosen me, chosen this, was like an anchor being dropped from my shoulders, cut off and returned to the sea without me. I felt free and loved and so very thankful.
He cupped my face in his hands, obsidian eyes shining bright. “I don’t know how we’ll make this work, but I swear to you, no matter what, we will do this. With all that I am and all that I have, I give myself to you.” Then he touched my mouth with his. The kiss was tender and sweet and warm. Several teardrops glided between our lips, mine. Tears of joy.
It had been way too long since I’d tasted Fadon’s lips.
His voice was husky as he said, “Your father has gone out with Lucius to see about something and won’t be back until lunch.”
“Okay.” I thought it odd he’d mention that, but I didn’t care enough to ask. Instead I kissed him again. A growl escaped from him, and our kisses became heated.
“Wait…” He pulled away and walked over to the door, shutting it and clicking the lock. In seconds he was before me again, his hands going to my osnat and undoing the clasp. “It’s my turn.” His voice was full of heat, lust, barely controlled.
My own heat rose, my body primed for what was to come. I vaguely paid attention to him setting down my osnat beside the plate on the desk. With eyes on me, he undid the buttons on my gown. Each inch of skin that was revealed he kissed, until my gown fell to the floor. I stepped out of it and stood in only a shift and stockings.
“Beautiful.” He rubbed his hands down my arms. He took my face in his, and together we got to the floor. The next few moments were a frenzy of him freeing his length, spreading my thighs, my body prepped and wet underneath him.
